Butterflies
by Fluorescens
Summary: This is a series of 'different' stories about a couple that strives very hard to be together. Each chapter however is linked to another.
1. Chapter 1

**His Straw Gifts**

Glossary:

ojii-san - grandfather  
daijoubu desu yo - I'm alright!  
konnichiwa - good afternoon!  
ano - erm.  
gomen nasai - sorry  
kirei - pretty  
osoi na - so slow!  
nani o surundesu ka - what are you doing?  
kaeru ka - have you returned?

* * *

_**"Look at that butterfly! It flies in its own world, from flower to flower.**_

**_If you blink your eyes, you will never see the same one again."  
_**

* * *

He was the boy who was orphaned at a young age and made a living with his hands.

She was the girl that tended to the stall which he had to bring his grandfather once a week.

"Ojii-san," he tried not to pant too hard and adjusted his grip around his grandfather's weak legs.

"Aa... daijoubu desu yo," the elderly man smiled and thought all the world of his grandson as he carried him on the back without any complaints.

The young man nodded his head and blinked as perspiration edged its way into the corner of his left right. Soon, he would get to see that sweet young girl. He wondered how old she was, because he was only fifteen. Even though she looked younger and was shorter than him, he could not be sure. To him, all girls looked young and short, although not all were as adorable and lovely as her. He wondered if he could ask for her name and blushed a little at that thought.

_I'm no rich man's son, she wouldn't like me,_ he told himself and staggered his way down slowly the slope. His grandfather was big-boned and heavy and he wondered whether he would grow up to be like him, though he was pretty sure that he had the height.

She saw him from a far distance, making his way down slowly and carefully as he carried his grandfather on his back. She clasped her hands and smiled to herself; she had always looked forward to this day of the week when he would come with his grandfather. Even though the young man never once looked her direct in the eyes, she thought that he was the most handsome and courteous boy in the vicinity. She wondered how his voice would sound like, since he only nodded and shook his head.

_Perhaps I am too brash, _she thought to herself and tried to adjust the forget-me-not that she had tucked into her hair. She tugged a little at her yukata, hoping that the faded green would not make her look too drab. She was no rich family's daughter and had to count herself lucky that her father knew a little about herbs and massages. At least she had food on the table; most of her friends had to even steal sometimes.

"Konnichiwa ojii-san!"

When she lifted her pretty face and smiled brilliantly at him, he thought that his legs wobbled a little from the combination of her sunny smile and the weight of his grandfather.

"Are you here for your massages again?" she asked as she led the way into her small hut and helped the elderly man down.

"Aa... when one is old, he becomes useless..."

"Ojii-san!" he frowned and laid his hand on his grandfather's shoulder. He never thought that he was a burden; his grandfather was the one who had raised him up when his parents were devoured by youkai. Although they were very, very poor, but he had learned how to make straw hats and straw baskets from his grandfather and they did not had to beg on the streets. And for that love and knowledge, he was more than grateful towards his only remaining kin.

Her eyes rounded; it was the first time she had heard him talk and it sounded low and gruff. For no reason, she wanted to giggle but restrained herself.

"Go outside with this pretty lady and wait for me, don't stay here," the elderly man smiled, revealing a broken tooth as he noticed his grandson's faint red-tinged cheeks. It was obvious to him that he liked the girl, but he could not encourage him to go after her. Every young lady wanted to marry into a rich family, and wealth was the farthest thing that they could relate themselves to.

He nodded his head and wondered why his grandfather had said that. _What would she think?_ He panicked a little, hoping that they had not made a fool of themselves and sat down on the raised platform, not daring to turn his face lest he caught her big shining eyes. _Should I ask for her name? What if I scare her?_

She sat beside him and hugged her legs; they did not have many customers and she knew that her father would not mind. She fingered the flower behind her ear and chewed the insides of her cheeks, wondering whether she should say anything. _Will he respond? Or will he ignore me?_

"Ano-"

"You-"

She giggled. He smiled.

"Did you want to say anything?" she asked.

He shook his head and thought his cheeks felt way too hot.

She smiled; he looked so endearing when his fair cheeks were pink. For some odd reason, she wanted to pinch them, and she did.

He was shocked, and looked back at her like a startled deer. Did she just pinch his cheek!

"Ah gomen nasai!"

But she continued to giggle and he thought that her light, girly laughter oddly resembled the melodious clinking of bells. He rubbed his cheek a little; her pinch was not hard but he wanted to touch the spot that her fingers had left its warmth on.

She finally caught his eye and stopped giggling. He had the most beautiful eyes that were shaped like a long, nice leaf; and the colours of his irises were of such a light hazel that she leaned forward unconsciously and peered into it.

He swallowed as the distance between them closed, hoping that his heart would stop beating so fast while he stared into her big, round sparkling eyes. She smelt of herbs and flowers, innocence and joy.

"Your eyes..." She cocked her head to one side and wondered whether he was a foreigner.

The wild flower dropped from her hair but she did not notice it. He swiftly picked it up and pushed the thin stem into her thick black shoulder-length hair, "it fell out."

Clouds drifted over their heads, but he could still see the pink in her cheeks and thought that her hair was softer than the fur of his stray puppy. Perhaps he could be bolder, he thought to himself when she did not move and looked at her yukata instead, twisting the thin fabric in between her fingers.

After what seemed like a long while, he finally mustered up his courage and asked the thing he most desired to know.

"What is your name?"

* * *

"Kirei!" she exclaimed jubilantly at the straw grasshopper that he made for her.

"Did you weave this yourself?" she cupped her first gift from him gingerly in her hands as she looked up to him, appreciation and admiration reflected in her eyes.

He nodded his head, relieved that she had liked his poor gift. He was a penniless boy, with no money in his pocket or power to his name, and only a skill that his grandfather bestowed him. She bounced the grasshopper up and down on her outstretched palm and he smiled when she laughed softly at the way her grasshopper moved.

From then on, he told himself that he wanted to see her smile and laugh everyday. It drove away the pain of being an orphan, the stress of supporting himself and his grandfather, and the depression and fear of being in poverty.

"Are you free now?" she asked as she held the grasshopper by its straw feelers.

He nodded his head, and when she took his hand, his lips parted a little.

"Let's go out and play!" she flashed him her signature cheerful smile and ran before he could even nod. But it was no problem since his legs were longer and soon, he had to slow down so that she would not trip. But he never once let go of her small soft hand, and she did not too.

* * *

She leaned her head on his shoulder and could feel the tall blades of grass tickling the back of her bare neck.

"It's ticklish," she said and adjusted her seat.

He looked down and rested his chin on her head, "then let's move."

She shook her head and kicked off her sandals, "I like it here, the lily fields are right in front of us!"

He smiled at her reply, "you and your obsession with flowers."

She looked up to him and frowned, "but you have to like them too!"

He rolled his eyes, even though he loved the way her eyebrows creased.

She tickled his side, because she knew that he did that on purpose.

"Oi! That's not fair!" He scrambled to the side and frowned hard.

But she did not relent, and soon both were tickling each other to their very best. Although she was not a very ladylike lady, he had to give in to her because he wanted to. In no time, they were screaming, shouting, laughing hysterically as they rolled around and through the wild lilies.

He pinned her arms down, for he could not take it anymore. "You are already sixteen!"

She glared at the crushed lilies and at him, "you are already eighteen and you just killed those lilies!"

He rolled his eyes and wished that lilies would grow on her head, "they will grow again."

"But it will not be the same one again," she retorted and pouted.

He thought that her rosebud lips were too tempting and released his grip, choosing to lie beside her and in turn destroyed more of her precious wild lilies.

"You'll always be the same, isn't it?"

Her lips parted; and she caressed the petals of the fallen lilies.

"Will you remain the same too?"

His eyebrows knitted themselves together as he stared at the wispy cirrus clouds, "aa."

She rolled to her side and tried to hug him. His eyes shot round and wide at her action.

"Then we will always recognize each other, isn't it? In our future lives," she closed her eyes and inhaled his masculine scent.

He remained quiet for a while, and raked his fingers through her loosened long hair, "perhaps we knew each other in our past lives too."

* * *

"Another gift!" she skipped through the woods happily with the grass-butterfly dangling in her right hand.

He followed her silently as her voice guided him, head looking down at the thick blades of grass as he concentrated while his fingers moved deftly; folding them, snapping them, twisting them.

"Osoi na!" she turned around and jabbed one hand to her waist.

He did not look up but continued to walk ahead, knowing well that she would not run too far off from him.

"Nani o surundesu ka?" she waited for him to catch up.

"Making another butterfly," he replied simply and gently pulled out its wings.

"For me!" she smiled gleefully and thought of the next place where she could hide his handmade gifts. Her father did not like them at all.

He nodded his head, "aa. They fly in pairs, isn't it?"

She nodded her head too, "Hn. Like us."

He stopped in front of her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulder while he held the other butterfly, "do you want to fly with the other butterfly?"

She pressed her face against his slightly sweaty chest, "huh?"

"I have to go to the next town. There is not much business for me here. I heard from my friends that there is a bigger village nearby and I think I can take back more earnings if I sell my straw hats and baskets there."

Her eyelids dropped; she did not want him to go. Not at this time.

"Must you go?"

He nodded, "go with me."

She closed her eyes; of course she wanted to go with him! But her father needed her, and he wanted to marry her off into another family. She bit her lower lip; she was his butterfly and no one else's. But could she stop him? Did she want to stop him? He would have a better life if he leaves for the other village. If he stayed with her, he would only get poorer.

She thought for a long, long while as they hugged under the big maple tree. Finally, she shook her head. And he asked why. She could not say that it was for his best and for his future. Neither could she say that her father disliked him and he wanted to marry her off. Her father was getting old, and she could never oppose him. Marriages were always decided by parents and she did not want to upset her father. She was sure that he would be able to find another woman in the other village. He was tall, handsome, skillful and clever. Surely there would be other ladies who would be more matching for him when he had made it big. She believed that he would.

And so she only said, "come back soon."

* * *

He whistled to himself as he wove the straw together into a caterpillar. iShe will like this/i he smiled to himself and adjusted the straw hat on his head. Three months had passed, and he wondered whether she would be shocked if he asked for her hand. He knew that her father would consent to their marriage if he gave him the pouch of silver that he had earned.

He wondered what she would say as he continued to insert more straws to the body to make its legs. He was unable to give her anything other than straw-related gifts, and he felt bad for it. Other ladies in the village wore pretty kimonos, thick white socks, held beautiful painted fans and had rouge on their cheeks and lips. But he could give her none of these other than what his hand could make.

"Maybe I should make her another caterpillar," he mused to himself and could barely contain his excitement as he imagined the day she would become his bride.

But before he could make another caterpillar, he felt something sharp pointing at his back.

They wanted his money, but he would not give them. It was her bridal dowry, without it he would never be able to marry her. He struggled, but he was no match at all against three desperate thieves. As he watched them run away with the silver that he had earned painstakingly, his heart ached for the woman that he would never see again.

Blood seeped from his wounds continuously until there was no more. The finished blood-soaked caterpillar lay in his cold lifeless hand.

* * *

She stared at the grasshopper and the butterfly in her hand, wondering how he was doing in the other village. Perhaps he had moved on to another one, she thought to herself as she waited for her groom in her house.

_Maybe he's waiting outside for me, _she looked out of her window. But no, he was not there. Three months, only three months without his presence and she already felt as if she was nothing but a walking doll. Perhaps he would not return to her. Perhaps he had found himself another woman. Perhaps he had forgotten about her. Her eyes were dry as she stared at his gifts resting on her lap.

But what if he returned and saw her with another man? How would he feel? Could she face him?

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She could not marry that man.

And she heard her father calling out for her. The groom and his sedan had arrived.

She looked around her room frantically; she would not allow herself to be defiled by another man. She was his butterfly, and would always fly around him. She sighted the pair of scissors in her sewing basket and without hesitation, swiped it hard over the throbbing artery under her jaw.

As she fell silently to the floor, she could hear shouts and noises calling out for her name. Her vision blurred, and even though she felt very cold, her heart was as warm as it could be.

She saw a small white butterfly, and thought that she recognized it.

_Kaeru ka? _she smiled peacefully and closed her eyes.

* * *

He was the boy who had many dreams of their past reincarnations, and promised to himself that he would find her again and again until they could be together.

She was the girl who had many suitors but only wanted the lily that he plucked for her; and was determined to reunite with him no matter what may come.

* * *

**The reason the horizon shines is that somewhere it's hiding you.  
The reason I long for the many lights is that you are there in one of them.  
So, I set out, with a slice of bread,  
a knife, a lamp, stuffed in a bag.**

**- Tenkuu no Shiro Laputa (ending theme for "Laputa Castle", directed by Miyazaki Hayao  
**

* * *

I wrote this because I kept seeing this lone little green butterfly around the flower bushes near my workplace. Somehow it evolved into this... This is the first part, and the following chapters would be sort-of a continuation to it. There is a reason why I don't include their names in but I won't say. You guys will understand once the last part is up.

This chapter is dedicated to someone who is obsessed with microbes, because I promised her a one-shot. And also to my cousin, who passed away from lung cancer this wednesday.

Pseudomonas


	2. Chapter 2

**Her Red Bean Soup.

* * *

**

**_"Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses."_**

**- Lao Tzu (Chinese Taoist Philosopher, b.600 BC)**

* * *

She was a woman who came from the poorest village and thought that she would have to serve others for the rest of her life.

He was a man who did not know the purpose of his existence and thought that he was nothing but an empty shell.

* * *

"From today onwards, you will be Young Master's personal maidservant. Do you understand your workscope and remember the things that I've told you?"

She nodded and kept her head bowed, not daring to look up unless she was instructed to.

"Good, Young Master is a quiet person. So do not disturb him unless it is necessary, do you understand?"

She sighed inwardly and switched her mind off. The Head Servant had repeated her instructions so many times that she could say them from back to front. _Do not disturb him, do not go into his room unless he calls, do not talk to him unless necessary, do not ask him any questions unless necessary too, do not-_

"Are you listening to me!" The high-pitched voice jolted her out from her train of thoughts.

She jerked her head up and nodded her head violently, "yes!"

"Then don't stand here like an idiot! Wretched girl..." the plump Head Servant turned around and swayed her way back to the kitchens.

She took a long deep breath, and willed herself to be calm. The Young Master was the family's youngest son and she had never seen him before, not even at the dining table. She heard from the other maidservants that he was a loner and preferred to keep to himself. Only his aged caretaker had seen him before since he always cooped himself in his room and refused to come out.

She wondered why he was like that and straightened her top. They had even given her a better-looking top with nice chinese knots for her 'first' day. As she walked silently to his room, she wondered whether she would be able to catch a glimpse of his face. Perhaps he was a monster? Perhaps he was disfigured? Or maybe he had a tendency to be very violent? She shuddered at this thought and pressed her lips together as she stood outside his room.

The light was on, and she could see the outline of his figure against a desk with a candle-holder.

"Young Master," she squeaked a little and berated herself for it. She was supposed to be polite, not afraid.

There was no response, and all she could see was his head turning from side to side as if he was reading a book. Was he a bookworm then?

"Young Master," she tried again. Her task tonight was to ask for his permission to enter his room. No one had been able to do it except for the elderly male servant but he was too old to serve and had to retire.

No response. She tried again. And again, and again.

At the fifth time, she decided that he was an immature, insensible and extremely rude boy. But that was something that she could only think in her head since he was the one who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, not her.

"_Young Master_," she emphasized pointedly and continued, "may I come in? I need to change your blankets."

He paused for a while and lifted his eyes from the book that he was reading. He stared at the flickering flame of the candle and thought that he missed the old man that used to serve him. This new maidservant was persistent and he did not like it at all.

"Go away," he blew out the flame and retired to his bed. There was no need to change his blankets, he thought to himself as he buried his face into it.

She saw the light being extinguished and sighed to herself. If she could not even accomplish this task, then perhaps she might lose her job afterall. She wondered how many girls had been employed and sacked, and whether she would be one of them

* * *

"Young Master," she stood outside of the room and looked down at the bowl of dessert. Perhaps the smell would attract his attention, she thought to herself.

There was no response or noise and she wondered to herself again whether he was still asleep.

She knocked on the wooden doors softly, "Young Master, I've brought some red bean soup for you."

He coughed a little and frowned; did she think that he was a child to be coaxed?

"Leave," he turned in his bed and continued to sleep.

She frowned; he was obstinate and stubborn. She would have to rack her brain hard and think of other methods.

* * *

She smiled to herself, surely he would need food? She balanced the tray of delicious-smelling dishes and called out again, "Young Master. I have brought you dinner."

As usual, there was no response but she was well-prepared. A week had not passed by for nothing.

"I will leave the tray outside your room, please eat it while it is hot."

She made sure that he could hear her footsteps and hid behind a nearby pillar. She was dying to see his face. He sounded mature, but she was sure that he had altered his voice to fool her. No grown up man would ever do such a thing to himself. What good would it do to hide away from the world? She reasoned to herself that he must be a teenager who was desperate for the attention of his busy parents.

She waited for a long while, until she could no longer see the wisps of steam from the soup. And she sighed. He must have known that she was hiding around somewhere and credited him some measure of intelligence. She padded silently back to the door and picked up the tray. How she wished she could eat the steamed fish and roasted chicken! And the scallops in the soup looked extremely inviting; she swallowed her saliva and wondered how they tasted like. Back in her hometown, food was extremely scarce and she only had half an egg during Chinese New Year when she was young. Now, she could only look as her younger siblings fought for the precious boiled egg. It was so long ago that she could not even remember the taste. Even as a maidservant, she could only eat the leftovers since she had not been 'accepted' by the Young Master yet.

She licked her lips. If he would not eat it, then she would. No one will know since this part of the house was isolated especially for him so that he could come out and use the bathroom.

"Young Master, if you will not take your lunch, then I will. I hope you don't mind," she told him through the door politely and sat on the steps as she placed the tray of the food on the floor beside her. _What a waste if I throw it away! _She smiled to herself and hoped that she will not be caught red-handed by the Head Servant.

He walked to the door, wet his finger and poked a small hole through the thin paper between the bamboo frames.

And there she was, back facing him as she sat down and ate his dinner. His dinner! And in front of his room!

He wanted to frown and laugh at the same time. No one had ever done this to him before. He was always feared and respected, even by his parents to a certain extent. And now this new maidservant of his had taken his dinner without his consent! He thought that he would have to go without food tonight as he continued to stare at her back view.

_She's too thin_, his frown deepened and he wondered how old she was. Her long hair was tied into two neat plaits and they shone under the waning light of the sunset. Then he froze, because she giggled. Had she caught him peeping? _But it can't be! _He tried to calm himself down and squinted his eyes.

He let out a silent breath of relief when he saw a sparrow dipping its beak into his bowl of soup. She turned her face, reached out a hand but the sparrow flew away before she could even touch it. He saw her smile to herself and resumed eating. He had not seen women for so long that he could no longer guessed her age. But she was young, this he was sure.

He closed up the hole that he had made previously and laid on his bed. Tonight would be a long night, and the first to go without food, he thought to himself wryly and went to sleep.

* * *

He woke up in the middle of the night from hunger pains. He tried to think about his books but all that appeared in his mind were food. His mouth was dry and he yearned for some of that soup that she had brought for him. Perhaps there was still a little left? He frowned to himself and thought that he had never felt this pathetic before. To think that he had lost to a mere maidservant!

He tossed about for several minutes and decided that he needed some soup. He got up from his bed, tip-toed to his door and peered through the hole. No one was around and after a good minute, he opened the doors slowly and cursed them for making such loud creaking noises.

A blast of cold night air hit him right in the face and he shivered. There was a bright full moon tonight and he could smell the sweet scent of flowers that were planted in the small courtyard in front of his room. He looked to the right and to the left, making sure that he was indeed alone before he stepped out of the kerb and made his way to the small kitchen that he recalled was somewhere around. After several confusing turns, he finally sighted the plain kitchen that he used to hide in from his parents when he was young.

He walked briskly to the kitchen and hoped that there would be at least some leftover food for him. He rummaged through the cupboards but found nothing other than dusty utensils and dry wood.

"Young Master?"

He saw the faint cast of her lit lantern and spun around, part from shock and part from fright.

Her lips parted at the sight of him. It was only her nerve that her hand held onto the lit lantern as she took a step back.

His hair was longer than hers and was not tied into a pigtail. Instead, it was loosened and in pure isilver/i. He was very tall and lean. His skin was as pale as snow and the soft yellow glow from her paper lantern made his eyes looked eerily light, as if they were of a soft gold colour.

"I... I..." she did not know what to say as he narrowed his eyes at her. He could imagine the things that went through her mind and was not surprised at all. He had grown used to such looks ever since he was born. No one knew why and even the doctors shook their heads, not knowing how to heal his illness even though he felt perfectly alright and normal.

But there was no place for him in the society. Everyone would ultimately see him as a freak, a hideous monster that should not be brought to the world by his parents. Even his parents had forbade him to step out from the house, and from then on, he had lived alone in this isolated part of the mansion. He could not even remember whether he had any childhood friends at all, and he presumed that he had none judging by his lonely memories that only consisted of himself and a caretaker. When the maidservant trembled, he smirked and folded his arms lazily, "don't you want to see my face? Isn't that the plan you had tried this evening?"

She gulped, not knowing what to say as she stood before her 'Young Master'. She was not even sure whether he was human or not. In that span of five seconds, she had tried to reason to herself that his silver hair was attributed to premature aging; or his fair skin due to being indoors for long periods of time. But his eyes, those light-coloured irises were too strange to be even passed off as remotely ordinary. He was anything but normal; she concluded to herself and struggled to keep her mind as strong as possible while her feet remained glued to the ground.

He took a step to her, and she let out an audible gasp. He frowned; she closed her eyes and apologized.

"I am very sorry Young Master! I will not do it again!" She bowed her head as low as possible, hoping that if he was some monster or demon, he would not harm her and let her go on her way. _This must be a nightmare, this cannot be real, I am dreaming_, she tried to tell herself.

He was vexed; he could not find food or water, and instead was found by her. He did not want her to be flustered, but there was nothing he could do except to wait for her to calm down. He sat down on a wooden stool and sighed softly. He was sure that the maidservant would leave on her own accord tomorrow, just like many others who were once her predecessors had. No one, absolutely no one could see him as human, not to mention as a male. He was a little glad that this one at least did not shriek nor faint upon his appearance.

How long had it been that someone had acknowledged his presence as real and human? He could only recall his own mother saying his name twice, but no more than that. And that was why he never wanted to leave his room, the realm of his sanctuary and sanity. Because only then, people would address and acknowledge him as the Young Master. Did all creatures of life not yearned for companionship and love? Yet he was the only one who was cruelly ignored and shoved away from the rest, as if his existence was nothing but a mere accident that Buddha had not taken care of.

_Even the lowliest ants have comrades and families. I don't even know why I am here, _his chest heaved with the second sigh.

Her eyes rounded when she caught his wisp-like sighs. They were so soft that she wondered whether her ears were playing tricks on her. She lifted her head a little and peered nervously at him; he was slouching on the stool and staring at the floor with a resigned look on his face.

Perhaps he was a human? She had never heard of demons sighing before, and she was sure that he was not a ghost since she could see his shadow, real and solid beneath his feet. She pressed her lips together when she saw him blink. She had never seen anyone so sad that she could recognize it right away by that subtle action. And his sadness seem to overwhelm her so much that she just wanted to squat down and take long deep breaths, because it reminded her of the depression she had towards her bleak future. She would forever remain as a maidservant, because that was the only thing she could do. She had to support her family; food was scarce and wars were rampant. She firmly believed that life held nothing for her other than misery and hopelessness, and that she would never experience joy, love or happiness because that was a luxury for poor people like her.

She straightened her back and decided that it did not matter whether he was a demon or not. Her life itself was already of not much value. The world would continue to spin without her presence; life would go on as normal if she died.

"Young Master, are you hungry? I can fix some food for you."

His eyes widened as he lifted his head slowly, not knowing what to say at her offer.

Someone who had seen him in real had acknowledged him as a human, and it was her. His new maidservant.

The corners of his mouth slowly curled up, and he nodded his head like a three year old boy.

"Yes please, thank you."

* * *

"Young Master?" She stood outside the door, holding a tray that held a bowl of her red bean soup. He did not say anything, but she knew that he loved it, even though he mentioned he did not really like sweet stuff.

"Come in," he replied happily and quickly pulled another chair to his side.

But she left the tray on his table and stood solemnly like a matron.

He looked up to her and wondered why she did not want to sit beside him.

"Sit with me," he patted the chair beside him.

She shook her head, "this will not do, Young Master. I am your maidservant."

He frowned, because he never saw her as his maidservant at all. He wanted her to be his friend, and hoped that she would see him as her friend too..

"Sit, if not I'll get angry."

She hesitated for a while; invoking his wrath was the last thing on her mind since she did not want to be sent away. So she decided to go along with him because she also wanted to be near him, even though she did not really know why. iMaybe it's his long beautiful hair/i she thought to herself and nodded.

He smiled, because she was now sitting by his side and had prepared her red bean soup for him again. In fact, he had it everyday but never seemed to tire of it. He even looked forward to it because it heralded her presence and companionship. He dipped the spoon into the dessert and saw a small ball of glutinous rice in it. He turned and looked at her.

She blushed a little and looked down, "I added it in."

He nodded his head and as he munched on the sweet glutinous rice, he thought his heart warmed all over like a small fire that had been kindled in the core of his soul. She smiled secretly to herself when she saw the contented joyful expression on his face as he chewed on it. He looked positively angelic when he was happy and she wondered why she had once thought of him as a demon.

"Why did you add this in today?"

She paused, not knowing what to say. Her mother had once said that by adding sweet glutinous rice into red bean soup, the person who eats it would always experience joy and happiness. It was something that she could not give herself, but she could give it to him.

"Because it tastes better that way."

He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Then please always add it in."

* * *

She looked at the rolls of scrolls and books on his table, on his bed and on the floor. He was definitely a bookworm, she mused to herself as she tried to sort through the mess and stack them up properly.

"What are you doing?" He turned around and rested his cheek on his right knuckles.

She peered up sheepishly, "tidying up."

He grinned, and she liked the way his mouth curled up.

"Come here," he patted the chair beside him again.

She obliged obediently and took her seat beside him. He closed the book that he was reading, and looked at her.

"Do you know how to read?"

She shook her head.

"Do you know how to write then?"

She lowered her head, feeling more ashamed than she had ever been. He was a learned person, a knowledgeable scholar, and the handsome, youngest son of a wealthy, upper-class family that had links to the royal family.

He took a brush and smiled, "do you want to learn then?"

Her eyes rounded in excitement at his offer. She had always wanted to go to school, but it was unheard of for girls to attend and besides, her family would have nothing to pay the tutors other than home-grown vegetables.

"You will teach me?" She could not believe her ears, and thought that it was her blessing that she was his maidservant.

His smile widened to a soft, deep laugh, "of course! There is no one else here but me."

She smiled and for the first time in his life, he never thought that he had seen anyone more beautiful than her. The smile on her face made her look so radiant and pretty that he realized that books could never describe beauty more apt than the one sitting right beside him.

He gave her a piece of paper and wrote a horizontal stroke on his, "this is 'one'."

She nodded and followed his actions, but somehow she used too much force and her stroke was too think and too wavy.

"Don't use so much force, let your fingers flow with the action," he continued and added another longer stroke beneath the first one. "This is 'two'."

She tried again; it looked better this time round.

He drew another stroke below the first two, "and this is 'three'."

She smiled a little to herself, this was easy!

He took a glance at her paper, "you are a fast learner. Now look carefully as I write the next character."

She frowned as she tried to follow his actions; this character was a little more difficult.

"This is 'four'," he looked at her and saw the crease in her forehead.

She bit on her lower lip and tried to imitate his actions.

He laughed again and shook his head, "no that's wrong!" He laid down his brush against the porcelain tray of ink, stood up and pushed his chair away. She looked up and wondered whether her slow mind had irritated him.

But he moved to her back, bent his back and grasped her right hand in his. She stiffened when his long white hair fell over her shoulders and his fingers closed around her own, lifting her wrist above his desk.

"This is how you hold the brush," he said softly and began to guide her cold limp fingers around the thin slender wood.

"And this is how you write 'four'," he continued and moved her hand slowly and expertly over the paper.

She swallowed and tried not to tremble, her heart was beating fast and she could only focus on the warmth of his hand and his breath on her cheek. She had never been so close to a man before, and this was her Young Master!

"How? Do you think you can do it?" he let go of her hand and straightened his back, not wanting to make any moves lest it turned out to be one-sided affection.

She nodded her head and squeaked, "yes.. I think.. I can."

He smiled, "ah, that is good."

* * *

She arched an eyebrow up, "this is my name?"

He nodded, "this is also the character for 'bell'."

She smiled, "really?" She did not know that she had such a poetic name, or at least it seemed like that to her.

He wrote on his paper and she saw he had split her name right in the middle, thereby creating two different characters.

"This," he pointed to the left character, "is my family's surname. And that," he moved his brush over to the right, "means today."

Her lips parted as she tried to absorb in the knowledge. She did not know that his name was part of her name too.

"The snow is heavy today," he remarked as he took a look out from the slightly opened window.

"Are you hungry Young Master?" she asked because she was always feeling hungry when it was cold.

He shook his head and smiled, "no."

She blushed as he did not turn his face away. Her eyes moved back to the paper as she tried to write her own name, although her mind was on him.

"I like to hear you laugh, because it sounds like many small bells chiming together," he rested his face on his propped hand and gazed at her side profile. Her two plaits were so adorable and he longed to touch her hair.

Her cheeks turned bright red and her brush stopped, "how can my laughter sound like bells?"

He smiled to himself, "I think it sounds like bells. And I like it a lot."

She did not know what to say or do, until his hand enveloped hers and lifted the brush off the paper.

"There is a big dot now," he grinned at the splotch of ink that had soaked through the thin paper. "Your hand is cold."

She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was tight.

"I'm alright Young Master, maybe it's the snow."

He called out her name and she looked up, to see her own reflection in his light-coloured irises.

They did not speak and for a long while, he continued to hold her hand along with the brush.

"Today... let me warm your hand."

She looked away, although she did not reject. His heart soared to the skies, and he felt that books could never give him this kind of happiness that he had longed for so many years.

* * *

She placed the bowl of red bean soup on his table and sat beside him, "what are you reading?"

He looked at her for a long time, and she asked, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"I think the both of us are like the characters in this book," he replied meaningfully.

Her eyes lit up in surprise, "can you tell me the story then?"

He smiled, "ah... it is about a young girl, whose name was Zhu Yin Tai. She wanted to study very desperately and so she dressed up as a male and attended a school of learning with the other boys. There was a boy, Liang Shan Bo, who sat beside her in classes, and soon in no time, they were good friends and exchanged pointers with each other.

This girl actually came from a rich family, whereas the boy was from a middle class one. The girl liked the boy but could not tell him since he still thought that she was a male. When he eventually found out that she was a girl, he was shocked and surprised. Soon they fell in love with each other and kept their relationship under wraps from their families."

She blushed again, and thought that he loved to tease her.

"I don't think it sounds like us."

"Why? I think they do."

"I am not rich," she gave her reason.

"But I like you," he confessed his feelings towards her for the first time.

She looked down and frowned, "Young Master, this is not right. Your mother will kill me if she finds out!"

He slammed the book on his table and overturned her bowl of red bean soup.

"Do you think I care! She doesn't love me. All she cares is the impression that we give others. And I am a monster!"

She flinched at his temper and got up to her feet, "no! You are not a monster!"

He kicked the wooden bookshelf hard and it rattled. "Then why am I like that! I don't look normal, this I know!"

She wanted to cry; she knew that he was right but she still did not think that he was a monster.

He kicked hard again, and slammed his fists against the wall. She gasped and gripped both his hands tightly, "please! Don't be like this! You are not a monster to me at all! Believe me!"

She looked down, his knuckles were all red and her heart broke at his hurt and lonely soul.

He relaxed when he saw her tears threatening to spill out from her eyes. No one had ever cry for him before, and he felt oddly happy that she was.

"You don't think that I am abnormal?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes, hoping that if she could, she would take away all his hurts and pains. They were like daggers stabbing into her heart and she wished that he did not have to feel this way.

"No... and I like you, no matter whether you are a monster or not."

He pulled her to his chest, closed his eyes and hugged her tightly.

"Stay with me, no one will know. They don't even come here," he reassured her as he stroked her head.

She cried, not knowing what to say and buried her face into his chest. She felt extremely happy and worried at the same time. Would things work out for the both of them?

He rested his cheek on her head and thought that she smelled like her red bean soup, "it'll be alright."

* * *

"You should come out!" She insisted.

He frowned a little, "the sunlight is too glaring."

She laughed, "but it's the early morning! You need some fresh air you know."

He sighed; she refused to step into his room and he wanted to be with her.

"Alright, you win," he grumbled.

She took his hand and led him out to the pond in his garden. "Look!"

There was a lone lotus, fully blossomed in pure white adorned by its dark green leaves.

"A lotus," he stated simply.

"Isn't it pretty!" she exclaimed.

"It's just a flower," he replied dryly.

She tugged at his hand disapprovingly, "it's a lotus!"

He chuckled and nodded his head, "yes yes! It is a _lotus_."

She pouted, and he hugged her from behind, "but it is not as pretty as you."

She blushed again, and thought that even though he did not have any friends, he was a sweet-talker. Perhaps she should stop making red bean soup for him.

He loosened the ribbons that held her bound plaits, "I like your hair loosened. You look prettier like that."

She wriggled a little, "no it is not. I shall have a hard time plaiting them up later."

He raised his eyebrows, "then I shall plait it for you."

She gave up; she could never out-talk him. He dipped his nose into her hair and tightened his grip over her tiny waist, "I don't understand why you smell so nice..."

A butterfly landed on her head, right in front of his eye as they remained in that position. Suddenly, he turned her around and stared into her big black eyes, "I don't want to be Liang Shan Bo."

She blinked, not understanding what had prompted him to say that. "Why?"

He rested her face against his shoulder and answered, "their families did not approve of their relationship. They soon died from each other's absence and transformed into butterflies."

Her lips parted at his explanation. Then she wrapped her arms around him and said, "I won't be Zhu Yin Tai, don't worry."

* * *

"Red bean soup!" He smiled and took a big mouthful of it.

She giggled and took out her handkerchief to wipe off the trail of red that dribbled down his chin.

He looked at her sweet face as she wiped the corners of his mouth.

"Why is it that you do not eat the red bean soup that you've prepared?"

She smiled, although she could not think of a reason why.

"Eat," he lifted a spoon of her labour to her mouth. She had to open it before it spilled onto her top. It tasted very, very sweet.

He took a brush and wrote another character on a blank piece of paper, "this is 'love'."

She cocked her head to one side; this character had many difficult strokes.

"It looks difficult to write," she pursed her lips.

"It is difficult to say too," he added.

He then guided her hand and re-wrote the character, "but I think I love you. And no matter how difficult things will be, I will never let you go."

Her tears dripped onto the paper and the character blurred. She had once thought that she would never experience any joy, love or happiness; but he had given her all of that. How could she ever repay him? She thought to herself as he caressed her face and kissed her eyes.

"Never let me go either," he whispered to her ear as he planted another kiss on her tear-stained cheek. He decided that he would never touch salty food from then on. He loosened the red ribbons from her plaits and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Do you love me?" he asked as he kissed her soft tender lips; they tasted sweet too.

She closed her eyes, not daring to answer lest it was a dream. His fingers were caressing her neck and she wanted to lean into his warmth. He kissed her again and whispered, "tonight, stay with me."

* * *

She stared at her vomit. _No, this can't be happening, _she shook her head. How was she going to hide this? The rest of the maidservants would know sooner or later. She wiped her mouth and quickly washed her face. She would have to think of a way before her belly gave her away.

_Maybe I should abort it, _she bit hard on her lower lip. But she did not want to, it was the creation of their love and their commitment. The baby was innocent and should not be denied a chance to live. But would the baby be welcomed? Or would he be ostracized by the society like his father? How was she going to raise him up?

She cupped her face and felt a headache coming on to her. She could not tell him, he would not be able to help anyway. She was not even sure whether he wanted this child or not. She felt horrible, unwanted and disgusted at herself. What had she done? Where was the propriety that a woman should have? She shuddered at the things that his family could do to her if they found out.

She would have to leave, if she wanted to keep the baby.

* * *

"You are leaving me?" he asked, a little incredulous that she would say such a thing.

She nodded her head, "my mother is ill. I need to visit her."

He frowned, "you are lying. I can tell. What happened? What's wrong? Why do you want to go?"

She closed her eyes, her head hurt like hell. Three months had passed, and if she was not fast enough, people would notice it. She rubbed her temples and sat on his bed, "please. I just need to go."

He held her hands, "is it my family? Have they discovered us?"

She shook her head.

"Then is it me? Have I made you angry?"

She shook her head again and felt the waves of nausea riding up her chest.

"Then why! Do you not love me? You are not being honest with me!" he shouted and slammed his hand against the wooden bedframe. He did not understand why she had changed all of a sudden. She had been blowing hot and cold these few weeks and he was confused, angry and frustrated.

She wanted to assure him that it was none of that, but her headache was full blown by now and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and have a good rest. But she had duties in the main kitchen and she did not want the other servants to come running down to look for her. It was the Mid-Autumn's festival and the family was holding a major celebration that very night.

"Believe me, this is all that I can say," she got up from the bed and instantly felt the world spinning under her feet.

He caught her before she fell and frowned real hard at her pale complexion.

"You are sick. Tell me, what's wrong with you!"

She struggled to stand on her two feet, "no, I'm alright..."

He pushed her away and yelled, "fine! Then leave me!"

She teared as her back met the wall, not daring to tell him the truth. The burden of their unborn child was weighing down on her heart like a rock and it was dragging her down to the bottom. But there was nothing for her to say, so she left his room quietly and hoped that he would be able to take care of himself.

* * *

He stared at the book; nothing was ever interesting to him anymore. He looked over the characters that she had practiced writing, and could not help but to miss her deeply. A week had passed and she did not come and visit him. He felt hurt, angry and betrayed. Was she toying with his feelings? Did their physical intimacy mean nothing to her? Did she lie to him when they lay under his covers and whispered sweet nothings to each other? Or was she just using him so that her life would be better?

_No, she's not like that, _he smashed his forehead against the opened book and teared. He had never loved anyone before, not even himself. He had been stuck in a blackhole of darkness and depression until she came and lit up his world. Her presence made joy and laughter realistic and possible. He now understood what was true happiness and contentment, something that he had never gotten from his parents because of his illness.

Then he heard approaching footsteps and his heart skipped a beat. He wiped off the tears with his long sleeve and opened the door.

But it was not her.

"Mother," the word felt foreign on his tongue.

The elderly woman flared her nostrils and gave her a son a tight slap.

"I did not keep you in here for nothing!"

He glared at her; his cheek stinging from her slap. How dared she!

"You will never ever see her again!"

He thought his mother smiled a little, and he flinched inwardly. He grabbed hold of his mother's shoulders and shook her hard, "what have you done to her! You evil woman! What have you done to her!"

She thought her son had gone mad; the way his golden eyes bulged at her, the anger and madness in his eyes, the way he was shaking her. Before she could say anything, her son was pulled away and restrained by the guards she had brought. He was a monster, a freak, and she did not want the world to know that she had given birth to such a child.

"Don't throw my face away! Don't you know your own illness! How dare you make her pregnant!"

His jaw dropped, and he slumped to the floor. A thousand thoughts went through his mind and all of them were regrets towards her. That was why she had insisted on leaving, but why could she not tell him? Did she think that he did not want the child? Or did she not have enough trust in him that he could handle the situation? Or did she not want to keep the child?

"Where is she?" he asked weakly. He had never felt this wretched before.

"She's dead. Do you think that I will ever allow such a thing to happen? Your child will be like you!"

He jerked his head up and stared at the woman. Had his mother really killed her? And his unborn child?

She frowned and glared, "of course I drowned her in the pig-cage! Do you think I can afford this kind of rumour! What would happen to our business and reputation you fool!"

He could not believe his ears. His mother had drowned his love. In a pig-cage, deep in the sea. He wondered what went through her mind as she sank into the dark cold sea, with their unborn child in her belly. He thought he would go mad.

He remained slumped on the floor even when they had left him. And they bolted up the door of his room.

* * *

He looked at the food on the tray. All he wanted was her red bean soup, with the sweet glutinous rice balls.

He looked at her writings, and wished that she was sitting beside him now.

He looked at his own hands; he was a murderer, he told himself. He had been unable to provide for her, to protect her from his family, and had even pushed her away when she wanted to leave for his sake. What had he done for her? What had he done for their unborn child? Was it a boy, or a girl?

And where was she? He kept asking himself this question. He did not want to believe his mother's story. She had promised him that she would not be Zhu Yin Tai. Their love story would not end like that; it was too tragic, too cruel. He wanted nothing of that at all, and had not meant anything of that to happen when he remarked that they were similar to the legendary characters. He had not even thought that he would fall in love with her.

But he did.

_"Come out!" _He heard her calling out for him. Yes, he needed some fresh air.

He got up and pushed open the doors. Oddly, the bolt was not there.

A white butterfly greeted him and landed on the tip of his nose.

He lifted his finger to his nose, and the white butterfly fluttered away to the lone lotus in his pond.

_"Can you please tell me the story?" _Her sweet voice rang in his ears.

Yes, the story of the star-crossed lovers. The butterflies, the grave, and the red thread of fate that tied them to each other.

He drowned himself in the lotus pond that night, thinking of her and his unborn child. Another white butterfly passed into the night the moment his breath stopped.

* * *

She had found him again, but they could not be reunited for long.

He told himself that he would search for her in his next life again.

* * *

FYI, the above couple is Sesshoumaru & Kagome (of course!).

"Liang Shan Bo & Zhu Yin Tai" is a famous Chinese classic that tells the tragic love story of a young couple who had met each other through a study-class. Zhu Yin Tai's father did not agree to her relationship with Liang Shan Bo and she died because she missed him too much. When Liang Shan Bo saw her grave, he was overwhelmed by her death and knocked his head against her tombstone. When he died, a pair of butterflies hovered around the grave and the story ended on a slightly bittersweet note that the lovers were finally reunited as a butterfly-couple.

Finally! The above was written in a Chinese setting (since I am one myself so Im dying to write one like that) and its set in China, where people see virginity as a very very important asset to a woman. In the olden days, people (men & women) caught in the act or accused of adultery were locked up in sturdy oblong rattan cage used for pigs. They would tie their limbs up so that they were unable to free themselves and dump them into the sea. Cruel I know, but this is a fact.

In the above fic, Sesshoumaru is an albino, which is unheard of in the early days (think so). Just in case you wonder...

And again, I killed the both of them... sigh. But are you beginning to see my theme? ) Don't worry, this will have a happy ending! Heh.

This chapter is dedicated to all Chinese who loves Inuyasha & Sesshoumaru! (Quan Ye Cha he Sha Sheng Wan! Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru!)

Pseudomonas


	3. Chapter 3

The Rickshaw Man.

* * *

  
Glossary:

Cheongsam- a one-piece sleeveless bodice that has a high mandarin collar, darts in at the waist and high slits at the side of the dress. (i.e. highly uncomfortable to wear in my opinion)  
Bukit Timah road - a real street in Singapore  
rickshaw - see author's notes

* * *

**_"Sadly, sadly my heart will break during the night  
But still i'll believe in what i'm looking for with my fragile hopes."_**

**- Lyrics from "Sorairo", composed and sung by Ritsuko Okazaki.**

* * *

He was a contented man who depended on his rickshaw for a living, although all looked down on him. 

She was a woman who was the apple of many men's eyes, but none of them captured her lonely heart.

* * *

He wiped off the perspiration that gathered on his brows with the thin, white towel that was draped over his neck. Today was a very hot day, and he longed for a bowl of the dark herbal tea that the mobile stall parked opposite the street was selling. 

"Five cents for a bowl! Five cents for a bowl of herbal tea!"

He opened up his coin pouch and took a good look. Perhaps he should buy that bowl of herbal tea after he had one customer. The moment he snapped close his pouch, someone had gotten up his rickshaw and he could smell the faint sweet jasmine scent that accompanied the customer.

"Bukit Timah road," her soft voice was almost drowned in the noise of the crowd.

He adjusted his straw hat and lifted up the heavy bars, causing the rickshaw to tilt backwards. "Yes Madam!"

As he pulled and jogged his way down the streets and corners, he wondered who this woman was. _She must be a rich lady that lives in one of those big expensive mansions_, he thought to himself as he blinked away the perspiration that got into his eyes. He hoped that this lady customer would give him a large tip so that he could get that bowl of herbal tea for himself.

"Madam, we are here!" His rickshaw came to a steady halt and he let go of the bars.

"Thank you," the lady pushed a one-dollar note into his sweaty palm before he could even straighten up.

By the time he had managed to do so, he only saw the slender back view of her elaborate red cheongsam and her beautiful long black curls. The jasmine scent disappeared with her departure and he could only stare jaw-dropped at the light paper note in his outstretched palm, which felt wonderfully heavy to him.

"One dollar! One dollar!" He waved the note in the air for five seconds and decided that he could also have a chicken drumstick for tonight's dinner. At the thought of his mother's smile on her wrinkled face, he headed for the nearest market immediately.

* * *

He waited at the same spot again, hoping to be able to see the rich lady who had gave him a dollar. It was not everyday customers gave him tips, not to mention a one-dollar note. A whooping one-dollar note! He smiled happily to himself as he whistled, keeping a lookout for young, slender ladies with long black curls. Perhaps today she would take his rickshaw, and give him another note. 

Sure enough, he felt someone getting up into his rickshaw and he turned his face around with a wide smile on his face, "where would you like to go today Madam?"

"Bukit Timah road," she gave the same answer again.

He nodded his head and lifted up the bars while his customer looked down at her gloved hands. As he jogged his way to the destination, he wondered whether the lady behind him was a prostitute. She was dressed in an expensive silk cheongsam, with pearls around her neck and rouge on her lips. Her gloved hands were holding onto a small sequinned bag and she had perfume on. Most women wore drabs and had dull complexions, from working too much under the sun or looking haggard from taking care of the many children they had. But her skin was perfect and fair, as if she had never seen the sun before.

And she was young, very young. He guessed her age to be no more than his, and he was only twenty.

But of course, he was a poor boy who lived in squalors with his single mother, and had to eke out a living with his mother at the market selling hand-made fishballs when he was twelve. His father had died when he was ten and left nothing for them except a pair of shorts that now fit him snugly. His mother's health was weak and he knew that her body could not take the strain of making and selling fishballs for long. And so he decided to take their savings and purchased himself a rickshaw. Afterall it was a mean of transport and he was young and strong. He figured out that he could pull the rickshaw for a good twenty years before he saved enough for a small business. Although only five years had passed, he was happy with his life and his mother was well. That was all that he asked for; health and contentment.

_She might be the daughter from a rich family_, he tried to defend the girl sitting behind him although he knew that the possibility was low. Why would a rich family's lady travel alone? They would be escorted by many suitors and their parents. But she was alone and her face looked sad.

Perhaps he should try to cheer her up, he thought to himself.

"Missus, do you live at Bukit Timah road?"

Her eyes rounded at his question. She seldom held conversations, although she knew that many lusted after her with their greedy eyes. She looked up at the young tanned lad in front of him. There was a small hole in his sheer white cotton top which revealed his thin lean back.

"Yes," she wondered how old the lad was.

"Ah I see... then you must be very rich!" he laughed a little and thought that he sounded stupid.

She smiled a little at the lad's courage; few dared to speak to her. Perhaps he did not know who she was. He was just a young boy pulling rickshaws and had no idea of the dark life that people like her led.

"You can say so, although that is not my house," her eyes squinted a little under the bright sun.

He blew out a breath of relief when she responded.

"Not your house?" he asked.

She frowned a little, how was she going to answer him?

"Hn," was her simply reply for a lack of a better answer.

He smiled a little, "I hope you are not offended Missus. It's just that I thought perhaps we should talk a little lest you get bored."

She did not respond, so he continued on his own.

"Today is very hot, isn't it?"

She looked down at her gloved hands, "yes. It is always very hot."

"We are here Missus!" He was careful to pull to a slow halt and made sure that he could get another look at her.

She handed another one-dollar note to his hand and he instantly said, "it is too much Missus."

Both looked up to each other's eyes and his lips parted a little at her eyes. They were round and big, very dark and soulful, as if there was an immeasurable amount of sadness hiding behind that curtain of long black lashes.

She smiled a little, and he thought that even her smile was tainted with that hidden grief.

"It's okay, I have a lot of money anyway," she pressed the note to his hand, thanked him and walked away.

He made sure that she got into the gates and wondered why there were no guards posted. He gripped the dollar-note in his hand and told himself that he would try and do something for her. iNo one should ever be that sad/i he pulled his rickshaw and left her mansion.

* * *

"Missus!" He waved his straw hat happily to catch her attention. 

She looked up, all startled like a frightened rabbit and hurried towards him.

"Don't do that! It attracts attention," she chided him as she got up his rickshaw.

He grinned to himself and handed her a bowl of the dark herbal tea, "drink it. It's good for this hot weather."

Her eyes widened at the murky black liquid swirling in the chipped ceramic bowl. And she wanted to cry.

"You... bought this for me...?" She could believe her eyes and ears.

He nodded his head and scratched the back of his head while the other held on to his tattered straw hat, "ah yes... because you said that it was always very hot, and I thought that you might want some of this."

She lowered her face, not wanting to see his happy, awkward smile lest she really cried.

"Thank you," she whispered and downed the herbal tea, not minding its bitterness at all. Someone had out of his goodness of the heart, not wanting anything out from her, bought her a cup of herbal tea. All because she mentioned that the weather was always hot.

As the lad jogged his way back to the stall to pass back the bowl, she thought that bowl of herbal tea was the best gift she had ever received, in comparison to the pearls, jewels, money and clothing she had gotten from men who wanted her body. She was nothing but a caged bird, one who had everything in the world except love and freedom.

He made his way back to his rickshaw, afraid to keep her waiting and lifted up the bars, "Bukit Timah road?"

For the first time in a long while, she let out a genuine smile, "yes please."

"Did you not get yourself a bowl too?" She enquired and noticed the new cotton top that he had gotten for himself. She tried not to giggle and told herself that she would give him more next time, since he needed money and she did not.

He turned his face half around and smiled widely, "ah I already have one before you arrived!"

Her heart felt incredibly lightened at his innocent free-spirited smile, and decided that she would take his rickshaw for as long as possible.

* * *

"Missus!" He tried not to shout and she noticed that he had painted the cover of his rickshaw. She wanted to laugh at the red and yellow circles on the dark-green waxed cover, and thought that he was the most endearing lad she had ever known. 

"Did you paint this yourself?"

His hand went to the back of his head again as he smiled, "yeah! Is it nice? I borrowed some leftover paint from my Malay friend and decided to decorate the cover. You are so pretty, so you should sit in a nicer rickshaw."

Her heart warmed at his answer, and she realized that he was much taller than her now that they were standing side by side.

"You are really very tall!" She gestured to the difference in their heights and smiled.

His jaw dropped at her brilliant smile; it was sweet, lovely and captivating. He felt as if his soul might be taken by her smile and instantly turned his heated face away, "my mother says I am like a bean sprout. Tall and skinny."

She laughed softly and upon that, he turned around wide-eyed. He had never heard her laugh before and never thought that a woman's laughter could be so melodious. _Like bells, small church bells_, he stared at her and realized that he was being rude when she blushed and looked away.

"Please get on!" He tried to laugh as she got onto his rickshaw quietly.

As he pulled the vehicle along the streets, she suddenly called out.

"Stop!"

He did, and turned around, "but we are not there yet..."

She smiled and he helped her down the rickshaw, hoping that she would not mind his dirty hand on her gloved ones.

"Wait for me here, I want to get something first."

He did not have to wait for long before she ran back, half panting and half smiling at him. He felt himself weak at his knees even though he knew that she was not some rich daughter of upper-class family. He was no knowledgeable man but he was a streetwise person, and he had seen enough tragic stories to tell himself that he was very, very lucky.

"I got this!" She waved the paper butterfly in his face and laughed, "I'm silly, isn't it?"

He shook his head, a little shy and embarrassed that she was standing so near to him.

"I wanted to have one of these when I was very young, but could not afford it since my family is very poor. And when we passed by the stalls, I instantly remembered and decided to get it. Isn't it pretty?" She blew at the hand-made butterfly and the wings flapped a little.

He nodded his head and noted mentally to get himself one later when he had dropped her off.

* * *

"How old are you?" She realized that she had taken his rickshaw for two months, shared a lot about their likes and dislikes and yet she knew nothing of his age. 

He panted a little as he strived to answer, "twenty this year!"

She nodded her head and thought that the clouds today seemed particularly fluffy and pretty. Or perhaps it was because she was looking at them from his moving rickshaw.

"How old are you Missus?" he knew her name, yet he could not kick the habit of addressing her as such. They had talked to each other everyday and he knew that even though she was rich and pretty, there was something dark hidden behind her smiles that she would not reveal to him. And he never pressed her for answers because he was sure that she had a reason. Everyone had a reason for not talking about the difficulties of their lives, and ever since he was very young, he knew that there was no point in trying to know more when one could not help.

She smiled, "make a guess."

"Eighteen?" He always thought her to be younger than him.

She shook her head, "wrong!"

He frowned a little, could she be younger, or older? "Nineteen?"

She laughed, "do I really look that young?"

He half-turned his face around again, "are you not?"

She leaned forward a little and the sweet jasmine scent wafted into his nostrils along with her action. His heart quickened as she whispered, "this is a secret, but I am already twenty-two!"

He never felt this disappointed when he heard her reply. He let out a silent sigh and realized that not only was she richer than him, she was also older than him. But then again, what did he want out from their relationship? He was merely her rickshaw driver, and she was his customer that he saw not more than an hour everyday.

After a long pause, she spoke again.

"But I feel like thirty."

His eyelids drooped, because he understood. Sometimes he felt as if he was much older too.

"I know how you feel, but life is like that. So look at the bright side of it," he tried his best to comfort her. He did not really know what she was going through, but he did not have to think too hard either.

She smiled sadly at his lean back, "by the way, I really like your rickshaw. It's as if it's my special sedan you know."

The corners of his eyes curled up in return as he nodded his head quietly.

* * *

"For you!" He pushed the thin stick in between her gloved fingers. 

She stared at the paper butterfly for a long while before she asked quietly, "did you make this yourself?"

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "ah... I bought one myself and tried to learn. It's quite complicated actually... is it nice?"

She folded her soft red lips in as she willed herself not to cry. The butterfly he had made from coloured translucent paper for her was large, although one wing was slightly larger than the other one. She blew gently on the wings and they flapped smoothly and perfectly. She smiled as tears rimmed her sparkling eyes, "thank you. It is very lovely."

He caught sight of her wet eyes and instantly turned his head, "I'm glad that you liked it! Let's go!"

She wiped off the salty trails and smiled, "yes, let's go."

She told herself that no matter how much money she could give him, she could never repay his kindness and love.

* * *

He swiveled his head around worriedly. He had waited for more than two hours, and he could not see her at all. 

He ruffled his messily cropped hair, _is she sick? Is she tired of me? Maybe she's busy. _He looked down at the bowl of sweet beancurd that he had gotten for her, it had already turned cold.

He let out a sight of relief when he caught the familiar light jasmine scent of hers, and instantly turned around. The bowl of beancurd broke dropped from his hand when he saw her hobbling towards him.

She tried to cover her face with a dainty lacy umbrella, but he could see blue-black bruises on her face and the corners of her mouth were bleeding. He ran to her without another word, tore the umbrella from her tightly-gripped hand and yelled, "who did this to you!"

Her eyes rounded and her gloved hand was instantly over his opened mouth.

"Sshh! Let's just go, please. Don't make a scene, not here at least."

He frowned and glared at his surroundings, but there were no one suspicious-looking around. When she pleaded with him silently with her teary eyes, he nodded his head and to her shock and surprise, he carried her in his arms gently until they reached his rickshaw.

"I will bring you to my home first," he headed towards his house without her consent. When they reached the squalors that he lived with his mother, he apologized and hoped that she would not be offended, "I am sorry. But your dress might get dirty..."

She shook her head and tried to smile at him. She had after all lived in such slums before.

He brought her to his room and made her sit on the straw mat. "Please wait here."

She did not dare to disobey because she had never seen him so angry before. Yet she felt oddly happy that he was, because it meant that he cared for her. And that alone was worth far more than anything she could have in her possession.

He returned with a hard-boiled egg and sat down cross-legged in front of her. "This might hurt a little, but my mother always uses this whenever I fought."

She wanted to giggle, but it hurt every time her mouth widened, "you fought?"

He nodded his head, "why? You don't believe?"

She wanted to laugh at the solemn expression on his face as he gently rolled the soft, warm egg over her closed eye and cheeks. He was always so easy-going and carefree that she thought it was a rarity to see him so serious and solemn; he looked older than her like that.

"I thought you would be a very obedient kid, that's all."

He snorted and grinned to her relief, "nah. I was very mischievous when I was a little boy. It was only when my dad passed away then I grew up. But I still fought with the boys once in a while if they teased me about it."

She opened the other eye and tried to look at his eyes; she loved them because they were warm, wide and open. Something that she wanted to run into, to take shelter and refuge in.

"My parents died when I was young too, I fought with the girls when they called me an orphan."

He laughed at her remark, and she closed her eyes, trying to remember the sound of his laughter.

When the egg finally moved down to her mouth, she opened her eyes and saw his collar-bone.

He immediately straightened his back and coughed a little, "I wanted to see whether your eyes are better..."

She smiled inwardly at his innocence and placed her ungloved hands over his rough big ones. He stopped, with the egg still under his right hand. Her hand felt so smooth and soft and fragile.

"Thank you, for everything. Really," she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.

His eyes rounded like saucers as his face flushed. She had kissed him! On his cheek!

She took the egg from him and wrapped it with her lacy gloves, "I need to go." She did not want to, but she had to.

He nodded and thought that his heart might leap out from his ribcage.

"I will send you home."

* * *

"MISSUS!" He yelled out for her while she hid behind a pillar away from the grocery shop. 

Her heart lightened when she saw him pushing and elbowing his way towards her through the angry mob, "be careful!"

He nodded his head finally broke free from the throng. As he sprinted towards her, a burning bottle of alcohol flew over his head and he quickly lowered his head before it got smashed. When he finally reached her, he realized that she was shivering all over from fright and quickly carried her in his arms.

"Don't worry Missus!" He frowned and made his way as safely as he could back to his rickshaw while the people continued to throw burning newspaper, kerosene and beer bottles at a grocery shop.

She turned her head back and looked at the tall, dancing flames of fire that licked hungrily at the three-storey houses above the grocery shop, "what happened!"

He pulled his rickshaw as fast as he could to her house, wanting to get her out from that dangerous area. He never knew what might happen and she could get hurt. To him, she was a delicate fragile flower who needed to be protected at all time.

"The boss of that rice stall jacked up his prices. These are quite common; there was a strike from some workers just a few nights ago because they have not been paid for six months."

She nodded silently, her heart still thumping hard from the fright. She almost got herself burned and did not know what to do until he came and rescued her from there. She chided herself for being so weak and timid and turned her face away from the burning scene. iHave I become so sheltered/i She chewed on her rouge-stained lip and wrung her clammy hands. Five years in captivity, and she had lost the courage and defiance that she once demonstrated when she was just a street urchin. She leaned back on his rickshaw and closed her eyes, wondering how many more years this would continue before she would gain her freedom and pride.

"Missus?" He was worried because she was so quiet.

She opened her eyes, glad that she had heard his voice, "huh?"

"Are you alright?" The dark clouds started to gather and he could smell the scent of a thunderstorm in the wind that rushed past his face.

She nodded her head, even though she knew that she was not alright at all deep down in her heart. She had never been alright ever since she had been the kept, prized mistress of _him._

She looked up to the skies and a peal of thunder drowned out her voice, "I'm fine, don't worry."

Before he could ask again, drops of rain started to fall. He started to pull faster because even though his rickshaw was covered, he knew that her health was not good and the last thing he wanted to see was her falling sick. So he hurried up and thought that he might run out of breath as rain soaked through his straw hat and white cotton top.

He stopped in front of her mansion and turned around, "Missus, do you have an umbrella?"

She opened her umbrella, got down and stood beside him, "you are wet."

He grinned at her, "its fine! I always get drenched, I'm used to it!"

She frowned, the rain made his body looked skinnier and taller. Perhaps today she could bring him in, since ihe/i was away in Malaysia for a week. "Wait."

His eyes rounded at her command and when she opened the gates wide enough, she beckoned him in.

He shook his head and waved his hands.

She half-ran and half-skipped to him, "come in! You need to dry yourself! Don't be stubborn!"

He knew that the thunderstorm would only get heavier, and he was curious about the western-styled house. Did she live alone? So he agreed and pulled the rickshaw in, parking it in front of the empty car garage.

When she made him sit on the sofa and disappeared, he looked around nervously and noticed that the house was rather simple inside with not many decorations, other than vases of fresh red roses standing around on window sills, black marble table, piano and ivory chests of drawers.

_She is really rich,_ he relaxed a bit when he noticed that there was no one in the house except for him and her.

"Use this to dry yourself up. I'm sorry that I don't have new clothes for you," she handed him a large, thick dry towel and lied. She did have men's clothing but they belonged to _him_ and she did not dare to lend it to him for fear that _he_ might discover.

He smiled and thanked her, while he tried to dry himself with it.

"Take off your top and wipe dry, if not you'll fall sick," she frowned and stood silently before him.

He gulped and replied nervously, "no.. no need for that. I'm very strong!"

She snatched the towel from him and frowned harder, "do what I say. I'm older than you. Do you think that I will be embarrassed? I had a little brother before."

His eyes rounded; he never knew that she had a younger brother. He swiftly turned around, yanked off the wet cotton top and held it in his hands, not knowing where to put it lest it dirtied her expensive furniture. But instead of returning the towel back him, she started to drag the towel over his back slowly, as if she was deliberating over something.

"You have a scar here, what happened?"

"Oh that. I was scratched by an angry dog when I climbed into a rich man's garden to steal his rambutans."

She smiled to herself and wondered what else he did when he was young. "Turn around, let me wipe your front."

He obeyed obediently and looked down at her beautiful head of long ebony hair while she gently patted his upper torso. The jasmine scent was stronger in her house and his nostrils were flooded with the sweetness of it. He longed to dip his nose into her hair, to hug her tightly and to never let her go. He wanted to rescue her out from her cage, to give her happiness, to always make paper butterflies for her.

She bit her lip again when she sighted the angry red patch on his left hand, "you didn't tell me you were injured!"

He tried to laugh it off, "nah it's alright. I told you I'm very strong. This little-"

He stopped, because she cried. He was flustered; not knowing what to do or how to comfort her and angry; because he had made her cry.

So he said the only thing that came first to his mind, "Missus! Please don't cry! I'm really fine, really, really fine! See?" He slapped the red patch and winced inwardly at the pain, "it doesn't hurt!"

She stopped his hand but her tears continued to fall. His heart broke when she gripped his hand so tightly that the burning pain no longer reached his brain. He gently pried off her gloved hand and wiped her face dry with the towel.

"Don't cry, I am fine," he dropped the towel on the sofa and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She was small, so small that he thought she was like a delicate rose that was stripped of its thorns to defend herself.

She trembled and smiled in his arms when she realized that she could not stop her tears. Tears of joy because he cared for her more than himself; tears of gratitude because he had given her a piece of freedom that she could enjoy while she was with him; and tears of sadness because she knew that she had fallen deep in love with him.

She buried her face into his bare chest and smiled, even though thoughts of worries plagued the back of her mind. What if _he_ discovered? She knew that _he_ would probably break his limbs, or even kill him. But for now, she just wanted to let go and embrace him, to immerse her soul in his warmth and not think of anything else.

_One night, just one night will be enough, _she told herself as raindrops continued to splatter against the window panes.

She pulled away from his chest, tip-toed and with her wet eyes closed, kissed him on his lips. He felt a strange sensation enveloping his head and his body and decided that he wanted her. No matter whom she had been with, no matter what she had done, and no matter how dangerous it was. He knew that she was a kept mistress even though she did not tell him anything. He knew that she was no longer pure and innocent but he still want her. He knew that this might cost him his life but he wanted to be in her arms, to merge into one with her and to give her some of his warmth that she seemed to crave for.

She led him up the spiral stairs, down the dark corridor, and to the four-post bed that had translucent curtains of white chiffon that laid within her bedroom. He noticed a vase of fresh red roses on her vanity table and his hand-made butterfly beside it.

"Do you know who I really am?"

He nodded his head and hugged her tightly, "I don't care. I love you Missus. Enough to see beyond all that."

She teared again, and he kissed away her tears.

"Let me take care of your heart, this I can do."

He took off her gloves and his fingers trembled a little as he pulled down the zip of her long white cheongsam. She pulled the chiffon curtains together and guided him on her bed as they made love to each other, slowly first then so passionately that the four wooden posts shook.

When both lay fulfilled in each other's arms, they could hear another loud deep roll of the thunder. He took a glance at the window and realized that night had come. "The thunderstorm will last through the night."

She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair, "I'm glad it rained."

* * *

"Do you blame me?" She looked up to his face while he sat propped up against two of her large pillows. 

He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her small nose, "why would I?"

She frowned to herself; this could not go on for long. Their secret rendezvous had continued safely for three months, but she knew that surely one day _he _would discover their illicit relationship. She feared for him, feared for his life and safety.

"He might discover," she closed her eyes as he caressed her full breasts.

He lowered his head and kissed her deeply, "I don't care. I've told you before, and it will remain the same."

She climbed onto him and wrapped her arms around his long neck, "I love you so much that I am scared."

He dipped his nose into her hair and smoothed his hand down her bare back, "I know. But don't be, we cannot hide from what will happen in future. I will rescue you one day."

She looked forlornly at her pillows and knew that it was impossible. _He_ was the boss of the biggest triad society in Singapore, feared and respected by many. He had so many connections that she knew that it would be a miracle if they could flee without being discovered. She was his pet, someone to satisfy his carnal desires and a beautiful woman to boost his ego in front of his triad members and enemies.

He kissed her ear, and then her neck, down to her collarbone as his hands roamed over her well-defined curves. She bit her lower lip and shut her eyelids as he entered her slowly and gently. She told herself to remember all these as he pushed against her. He braced himself on his arms and as he made love to her, he silently promised her that he would one day free her from the cage. She should be spreading her beautiful wings against the breeze and not made to wait inside the cage for her freedom that might never come.

* * *

He frowned as he stood in front of the unlocked door of her bedroom. He had not seen her for weeks; she was avoiding him. 

"Don't come in!" He could hear her shrieks.

He knocked again, "why? Let me come in!"

She shook her head, she could never let him see her in this state. She would never go near him again.

He could hear her cries, and his heartbeat escalated. Had _he_ beat her up again? He put his hand on the doorknob and opened the door, not caring whether she would be angry or not.

The first thing that greeted his sight was broken pieces of mirror scattered on the floor. The windows were opened and her white chiffon curtains were billowing from the four-post bed. He rushed to her but she only shrieked and covered her face with the blankets while she turned her back on him.

"Don't come near me!" She cried out helplessly.

He stood motionlessly in front of the bed. The chiffon curtains that brushed against his face did not block his view of her at all. He could see small bumpy red spots on her exposed arms and neck. His lips parted when she turned her face around slowly, angry tears trailing down her cheeks and over the same bumpy spots that spotted her cheeks.

"You've seen me, are you disgusted? Afraid?" Her voice was laced with hatred, anger and pointed sarcasm.

His eyebrows drooped to the sides as he closed his eyes and shook his head. _No, this can't be happening to her, _he balled his fists and wished that he could kill that man who had brought this onto her.

She laughed a little and looked out of the opened window. She had tried jumping out from it but it did not take her life. It was ironic that she could go where she wanted to but she would never be able to free herself.

"Leave, you might get infected too," she could taste her own salty tears.

He passed through the chiffon curtains and sat behind her, on the bed where they had made love to each other countless times when _he_ was not around.

"How many times do you want me to repeat myself? I am not afraid, and I don't care," he hugged her from behind and she still smelled like jasmine. It was then he realized that the scent was spiked with salt and was not her perfume, but the sad longing scent of her desire to break free from her cage.

"You will always be my butterfly, no matter what happens to you."

* * *

He climbed up the spiral staircase as he carried a bowl of plain porridge in his hand. _He_ had not visited her ever since she was stricken down with the illness, and he was glad for that. He pushed open the door to her bedroom and made his way towards her. 

She was as usual, sitting on the edge of her bed and looking out of the window.

"Come and eat," he sat beside her and noticed that her once fair and flawless complexion was now ruddy and red with the bumpy welts. She no longer smelled of jasmine but the stronger scent of roses.

"I'm very happy now," she coughed. He noticed that her hair was thinner now, so was her body.

She turned and looked at him with both joy and sadness in her eyes, "I've gained my freedom now. And I have your love."

At her words, he broke down for the first time in front of her, his tears falling into the porridge that he had made for her.

* * *

He rushed down the corridor to her bedroom, with another paper butterfly in his hand. 

"Missus! Look at-"

He dropped his hand-made butterfly as he stood at her door motionlessly.

She was lying lifelessly on the floor, with a peaceful smile on her face as she held onto his paper butterfly tightly in her right hand.

He did not know how much time had passed until dusk approached. He then carried her cold stiff body onto her bed and pulled the blankets up her neck. He retrieved the second paper butterfly that he made for her and laid it beside her head.

The last remaining petal of the deep red rose fluttered away with the night breeze as the moonlight shone through the opened window. He planted a dry kiss on her cold forehead and whispered softly, "I will make sure that I live long enough to find you next time."

He thought he could hear her sweet laughter floating together with the cool breeze, and noticed that there was the same red, bumpy spot on the back of his hand.

* * *

He knew that he had missed the chance to be with her for three lifetimes as he stood alone before the Door of Reincarnation, telling himself that he would not let her go the next time he found her. 

She told herself that she would not let it be the next time she see him and stepped out into the blinding Light with the notion strong in her mind while her soul was transported.

* * *

A one-dollar note is a hundred cents, which was able to purchase much then. (Talk abt currency deflation...) 

Rambutans: a kind of hairy tropical fruits that has a red thick shell.

I tried to set this chapter in the early times of my country (Singapore), around 1950s after the Japanese had been defeated and driven away by the Americans (World War II). A rickshaw looks something like a hybrid between a covered-coach and a cart-wagon, and if you want a picture of it, I'm sure Googling it will give you one. This was inspired by a local-made show that I watched when I was younger (say 10 years ago?). And because it was so sad, I remembered it very well. This show also provided the inspiration and backbone of this fanfiction, which I think most of you have gotten the gist of it by now.

Enough with my rambling, the next chapter will be the last one. And then I shall return to my long fic... (faints)

Pseudomonas


	4. Chapter 4

**The Youkai and the Miko.  
**

****

* * *

Glossary:

saya - sheath  
ningen -human  
matte - wait  
Mukotsu - the poison user from Shinchinintai  
mitte - look!  
sugoi - wow!  
demo - but  
daijoubu - it's alright  
nanda - what?  
kirei - pretty  
ano - erm../excuse me  
gomen nasai/sumimasen - sorry  
Shikon no kakkera - Shikon shards  
onsen - hot spring  
masaka - could it be? (in this context)  
eeto - eh.  
haori - top worn over kimono, like a coat  
hakamas - pleated pants, normally worn for training  
hontou desu ka? - really?

* * *

_**We are drawn together like a water droplet  
We are repelling, like a magnet.**_

**- Lyrics from Quincy no Hokori ni Kakete (Ishida Uryuu's character single from BLEACH)**

* * *

He was a taiyoukai who had lived for very long, as if he was in search for something or someone.

She was a ningen who got dragged into a dry well by a youkai and traveled back five hundred years in time.

* * *

When their faces almost touched each other for the first time, it was not a happy situation.

In fact, it was rather tense and strung up, as if the air molecules in between had been instantly snap-frozen.

He lowered his eyes and stared at the miko who was now at his mercy, wondering what kind of hidden ability she had in order for her to pull out Tessaiga. But she looked rather plain and insignificant, and pretty small-sized too even though she had big eyes that seemed to radiate.

She glared up at him defiantly and held onto Tessaiga's saya for her dear life, although she was shaking all over like a frightened cat inside. She noticed his wide-slit eyes that seemed to freeze her innards and halt her breathing.

"Inuyasha! Show him that you can wield Tessaiga!"

The hanyou charged towards his half-brother even before she could finish her sentence and shouted at him, "Sesshoumaru, let her go you fucking bastard!"

His anger flared at his remark; had he called him a bastard? Who was the bastard? He, Sesshoumaru was the rightful and eldest son of Inu no Taisho, whereas that suckling brat was born from a ningen woman. He should be the one wielding Tessaiga, not this hanyou whom he did not even want to acknowledge that they shared the same father. His presence was a disgrace to their nobility in the youkai world; a taint to their pure-blooded lineage that so many had fought hard to preserve. His chichi-ue had made a mistake, and he knew that it was his duty to correct it because he was the eldest.

And in a rare fit of his anger, he released a spray of his lethal-acid poison over the girl who had extracted Tessaiga for the hanyou brat, because he knew that he cared deeply for her. Her death would drive the hanyou mad, and Sesshoumaru longed to see him suffer for the shame his existence had dealt on him.

Inuyasha stood dumbfounded as melted rocks collapsed over the form of the girl who had taken out the sealing arrow from his heart. He tightened his grip over the hilt of Tessaiga and looked down at the rusty broken sword, _what good will this do!_

"Sesshoumaru!"

The taiyoukai gladly obliged because he needed to vent out his anger and jealousy at his father who had left the all powerful Tessaiga to Inuyasha instead of him. He called upon a string of his youki and hurled the whip relentlessly at the brat who had taken away his right and pride as the rightful heir to Tessaiga.

"Inuyasha!" She pushed away the rocks that covered her body and stood up. That jerk had indeed tried to kill her! She glared at him but could see nothing other than amusement and slight surprise in his cold cruel eyes.

"Kagome!" The hanyou's eyes lit up in relief and joy when he saw her whole and uninjured.

But he frowned inwardly, because even the saya in her hands had protected her from his poison. Was there something in the girl and the Tessaiga that were denied to him? And when his left arm was being brutally cut off by his hanyou half-brother, the girl had earned herself a spot in his memory because it was she who had awaken Tessaiga's powers. Kagome had revived Inuyasha, caused the loss of his good arm, and even taunted him when he could have broke her neck effortlessly with his fingers.

And she remembered him equally as well because he had tried to kill Inuyasha, kill her and she could not forget the way his cold, apathetic eyes bored into her own. It reminded her of a predator, one who was out to catch her if she ever tried to flee.

* * *

They had crossed each other's paths many times before. But seeing a ningen girl tottering behind him was her first.

"Inuyasha! Why is she with Sesshoumaru?" Kagome asked as she pointed to the back view of Rin who continued to skip happily behind the taiyoukai and called out his name affectionately.

"How would I know! Let's go!" Inuyasha slid Tessaiga back into its saya and walked off. Kagome hurriedly followed after him as they went in search for Miroku, Sango and Shippou.

Kagome stood there as she watched their backs disappearing amidst the fog. Somehow she felt that there was more than what it had seemed. Sesshoumaru declared his dislike for ningens, but it could not be the truth since he had came to rescue that little girl, whom he called her as Rin. And Rin had followed him obediently without another word as the taiyoukai turned around and left quietly.

It was as if there was this unspoken delicate relationship between him and the little girl. And Kagome was intrigued. She had always seen him as a merciless, emotionless and cruel youkai, although he was also somewhat handsome and aristocratic too. _That's not the point_, she re-collected her straying thoughts and wondered what had prompted the change in him. Was that just a coincidence? Or had she imagined too much?

"Kagome!"

She heard her beloved hanyou calling out for her and swiftly ran after him, "matte Inuyasha!"

_Perhaps he is not who I think he is_, she thought to herself as she smiled at her hanyou.

* * *

He arched his eyebrow up as the dense putrid smoke cleared.

There was a woman, no, a girl lying on the dirty floor.

And it was she. The one who followed around his hanyou brother like a flea and the one who had tested his patience before.

How could he forget her? The way she glared at him, the scent of her fear, and the deep, rich colour of her irises.

"Sesshoumaru!" Kagome coughed hard and looked up at his regal form. He still looked as graceful and untouchable as before even though he was surrounded by the poisonous fog; and it seemed to her that the smoke had to make its way around his tall body because he was Sesshoumaru. She glanced at the motionless form of her abductor and frowned; she did not want to marry Mukotsu at all. Just the sight of his swollen, shapeless lips sent shivers down her spine and she had tried her best to stay conscious for as long as possible. Because no matter whether he loved Kikyou or not, she knew that Inuyasha would come and rescue her. He always did.

But now that it was _he _who stood before her like a proud prince with that unidentifiable look in his golden irises, Kagome could not believe her eyes or her luck. Sesshoumaru, the one who had tried to take her life before was now her saviour? She felt a little light-headed as she tried to focus her eyes on his pristine white hakamas.

Upon the mention of his name, Sesshoumaru tilted his face and looked down at her. She was a mess; her hair was ruffled, her white top was dirtied and she was again wearing that hideous green skirt which was too short for her thin legs. For a short while, he wondered whether he should respond to her or not. And if he chose to respond, what should he say? To a human girl who had escaped from his clutches time and time again?

He hated her defiance and her pure love for Inuyasha; it shone in her eyes and it seemed that that would never happen to him even though he had lived many centuries more than her. Her love of life, her love for relationships, her love for Inuyasha were all reflected in that deep brown eyes of her. And he detested it, because he knew that he would also never be able to obtain such undivided adoration and intense, pure feelings from a female. He was not made for such things and he also knew that they were unnecessary wants in Life that he could do without.

So should he kill her?

But to sully his fingers with her blood was not something that he wanted today. He did not expect to find her when he went in pursuit after Mukotsu, and the helpless look in her eyes somehow bugged him in a way that he had never experienced before.

Was that compassion then?

He knew that she was a weak creature, one who was not even deemed as combat-worthy. But he felt a different kind of respect towards her although he told himself that she would eventually die in his hands one day. And that was because even though she was physically weak, she had a strong mind that rivaled his own and Inuyasha's. And for that, he would not take her life yet. But at the same time, he did not want her to think that he had came for her, since that was not his intention at all. It would never be, he told himself.

"Do not think that this Sesshoumaru has come to save you, my target is him," he directed his cold stare to Mukotsu's back.

Kagome opened her mouth but did not know what to say in response to his statement.

Sesshoumaru looked at her and thought that he should leave before things turned awkward.

"KAGOME!"

They looked away from each other and decided that _that_ was that. Nothing else would be said.

* * *

"Whoaaaa!" Shippou squealed in excitement as his kite flew higher and higher, seemingly to disappear between the white, fluffy clouds and he light blue sky. The sun was high up and he squinted his bright emerald eyes; he could only see the long red tails of the handmade kite flapping angrily as the wind carried it along its way.

"Kagome! Mitte! Sugoooooi!" Shippou held onto the last, short portion of the thread with one pawed hand and pointed to the trailing red-coloured paper with the other.

Kagome shielded her eyes with one hand and looked up; the kite was flying too high and the wind was getting stronger. She could smell the scent of rain and thunderstorm in the oncoming breeze and turned to the kitsune, "Shippou! I think its going to rain! Bring the kite back!"

"Demo- Aahhh!" Shippou squealed again as the thread left the grip of his fingers.

Both watched forlornly as the kite soared to the skies helplessly and vanished behind a small hill.

"Kagome, I'm sorry," Shippou lowered his head and stared at his bare feet. Kagome had personally made that butterfly-kite for his birthday and he had lost it, just like that. _Baka! I should have been more careful_, he berated himself as Kagome made her way towards him slowly, since the wing was too strong for her light and small frame.

She squatted down, patted the kitsune's head and smiled. Even though her heart ached a little at the loss of the kite since she had spent so many hours painting it, she did not hold it against him. Shippou was a child, always a child in her eyes and she held back her hair with one hand and looked into his wet-rimmed eyes.

"Daijoubu yo! Maybe we will find it again!"

And at her charming motherly smile, Shippou wondered whether her heart was as big as the world he lived in; surely it was as deep as the unfathomable seas and as high as the unreachable skies!

He nodded his head and swiped away the tears, "Hm. The heavens would return the kite to us."

* * *

"RIN! Stop chewing that!" Jaken glared daggers at the half-bent straw in her mouth and thought that even though she had been traveling with them for three years, she did not behave like a proper girl at all.

The little one ignored her caretaker and continued to shake her head from side to side as she hummed a tune that she remembered her mortal mother had once sang to her before sleep-time. "The night... the night... the stars... the stars... Sleep tight and"

She paused in the middle of her tuneless song and stared hard. There was something caught in the trees above the spot where they had been resting.

"JAKEN-SAMA!" She pointed up excitedly and hopped up and down on Ah-Un.

"Nanda?" Jaken sighed out loud and wondered which flower had caught her eye this time round.

Rin steadied herself on the draconic beast and stood up, "It's a kite! A kite Jaken-sama!"

The kappa-youkai and frowned, "I'm not going to get that for you! It's just a kite."

"Demo Jaken-sama, Rin has never had a kite before!" She pouted.

He shook his head and turned away, folding his arms and wondered to himself when his youkai-lord would come back for them.

After a short while thinking about all the wonderful things she could do with that kite, Rin decided to get it on her own. Afterall the tree did not look very tall to her and she was a rather good climber. When she slowly scaled up the rough bark and winced at the branches that got caught in her yukata and her hair, she realized that the paper kite was stuck in the topmost branches and it would tear if she was not careful.

Still, she was already half-way up and her lord had told her that she should learn to settle everything for herself since she was not a child anymore. Rin frowned and thought that she was still very much a child. Nevertheless, she did want that kite and flying up on Ah-Un would just bring the whole tree down and spoil the delicate paper kite.

"Rin! Get down! Its dangerous!" Jaken turned his head around and was alarmed that her lord's ward had already got herself so high up in the tree. Was the wretched girl not happy enough traveling beside Sesshoumaru, or did she wanted his own head as a stool! He shuddered inwardly at that thought and quickly waved Nintoujou in the air and threatened, "Get down this minute or I'll burn the whole tree down!"

Rin widened her eyes in horror and shook her head, "If you do that Rin will tell Sesshoumaru-sama that you tried to burn Rin!"

Jaken sighed to himself and shouted, "Be careful you silly girl!"

She smiled and continued her ascent and prayed hard that the thin branches would be able to support her weight, since she was not as light as before. Up, up and up she climbed, until she could reach hold of the two long red tails. It was such a bright shade of red, and it reminded her of the sakura insignia prints on her youkai lord's haori.

"Kirei!" Rin smiled to herself and tugged at the tails.

But the kite did not budge, and she frowned.

She tried again, but the light bamboo frame of the paper kite was firmly stuck in between the branches and the leaves. With her right hand wrapped over one flimsy-looking branch and the other holding on to one red tail, she tried to swing her right leg up onto the higher branch. Naturally, her attempt was unsuccessful since her leg was not long enough for her toes to even touch that branch and she fulfilled Newton's Law of Gravity the very next second. Before the notion of her bones breaking into a hundred pieces registered in her mind, she closed her eyes and thought of her youkai lord.

Sure enough, she did not feel the wind rushing past her ears and felt herself coming to an abrupt, jerky halt. She opened her eyes and smiled even though she could not see him, "SESSHOUMARU-SAMA!"

The taiyoukai uncurled his two clawed fingers from the collar of her yukata and dropped her unceremoniously on Ah-Un. _What is she doing by climbing up so high?_ He frowned inwardly at her rash action and took a quick glance at Jaken, who was trying in vain to hide himself behind some wild berry bush. "GOMEN NASAI Sesshoumaru-sama! That stupid Rin was trying to get some stupid kite and-"

The kappa-youkai mumbling was promptly stopped and as Jaken laid flat-out on the ground, he wondered to himself again the umpteenth time how his lord managed his throws so accurately irregardless of the size of the stone or where his position was since ihe/i did not even look at him. Did he have eyes at the back of his head?

But then again, _he_ was Sesshoumaru, and while Jaken tried to sit up, he hoped that his brains was not smattered yet.

Rin rubbed her butt gingerly and turned around. Before she could say anything, she saw a few bright flashes of the familiar green lash and a couple of branches fell out neatly beside them. Rin looked up and there it was; her kite fluttering down noiselessly in the still of the deep woods. Her gaze followed the brightly painted kite and realized that it was in the shape of a butterfly as it fell into her out-stretched hands.

"SUGOI!" Rin exclaimed and knew that nothing could ever deter or hold back her lord.

But her youkai lord merely walked on silently and everyone followed him obediently; like unprotected ducklings after their mother.

And as Rin tried to contain her joy over the beautiful kite she had found, she looked at the ever-straight back of her youkai lord and wondered how many times she had been saved by him. She tried to count with her ten fingers but it seemed that they were not enough. So she tried to add in her toes too and realized that the answer was beyond her calculation.

She knew that she was getting older, and there were changes in her body that she could not ignore. She wondered how long more could she continue to travel with her youkai lord and upon that thought she instantly asked out loud, for there were no secrets between her and him; at least it was so on her part.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, can Rin stay with you forever?"

The taiyoukai narrowed his eyes slightly and thought that he was getting soft when he realized that her voice was not as high-pitched as before. She was also getting heavier and he would need to cut her hair again when she was asleep.

"Be silent," that was his reply since he was not sure whether he wanted her to stay with him or not.

Rin saw the ever slight shrug in his shoulders and smiled happily to herself, because that meant that he was still thinking and any amount of time that she had prolonged was good. She wondered what his heart was like, for her to be able to tag along for so long without getting any scoldings at all. Was it as wide as the great river she had seen? Was it as deep as the mountain passes they had trekked through? And what would be the colour of his heart? White? Red? Blue? Black? Gold?

Rin looked down at the butterfly kite in her dirty hands and lifted it up to her nose, taking in a deep breath as she shut her lids in wondrous satisfaction and gratitude. It smelled of birds, trees, rivers and wind. She opened her eyes and his back greeted her again; it was always his back since she was always following him from behind.

She smiled to herself and thought to herself that her youkai lord was more than the birds and the trees, or the rivers and the wind. His heart was an array of multi-changeable colours, each individual yet merged together, like a burst of that rainbow that hung in the skies over their heads.

So she nodded her head and smiled again, "Hai!"

* * *

They had crossed each other's paths again.

It was Shippou who had first sighted the butterfly kite, with its long red tails drifting lazily up in the blue skies.

"Kagome!" He screamed out, adrenalin coursing through his veins as he ran towards the kite as fast as he could. The heavens had indeed returned his kite! He told himself as he hopped over bushes and skipped through streams.

"Shippou!" Kagome called out and decided to go after him, in which Inuyasha growled unhappily, "Let him be Kagome!"

She ignored the hanyou's protests and wondered who could be holding onto the kite and whether she was able to retrieve it back. She rather liked that kite too, since her mother had helped her to put the frame together and the wings were not exactly easy to make.

"Shippou!" Kagome panted as she sprinted after his motionless form. Why had he stopped suddenly? Was there a youkai in front of him? She tightened her fingers over the long bow Kaede had given her and frowned a little.

And she was right, and wrong.

There was a youkai, no, three youkais and a small little ningen girl.

"Sesshoumaru!" Her eyes widened in a mix of fear and surprise. He was leaning against the base of a tree, taking shelter from the summer heat under its shadow some distance away, with an undecipherable look in his face again. The little girl was staring at them, surprise blatant in her black eyes as she held onto the taut string of the kite. Jaken was beside the taiyoukai as usual and Ah-Un was at the far back, one head munching on the grass while the other was raised at the intruders.

Shippou gulped and scrambled behind Kagome's slender legs; oh why was it them who had taken his kite!

Kagome straightened her lips and swallowed; she had not talked to Sesshoumaru personally before and the scenes of their previous interactions flashed before her eyes, none of them exactly peaceful or happy. Perhaps she should leave.

"What are you doing here and disturbing us!" Jaken stared.

Her eyebrow twitched a little; if it was not for the taiyoukai, she would have gladly aimed her hamaya at his protruding green forehead.

Shippou tugged at her short green skirt; he wanted to leave, but not without the kite.

Kagome looked up to the kite and decided that it was a beautiful day, so perhaps he might not kill her. She cleared her throat softly and squirmed a little when Shippou's bushy red hair tickled her legs.

"Ano... that is my kite."

Jaken glared, Rin cocked her head to one side while Sesshoumaru remained impassively expressionless. After thirty seconds of uninterrupted silence between them, Kagome thought that perhaps she should make clear her request.

"Er... I would like to get my kite back, because I made that for Shippou."

Jaken snorted, Rin's eyebrows drooped to the side in disappointment and Sesshoumaru shut his lids.

She felt a flush of anger riding up her chest; did he think that she was a fly! Perhaps she could talk to the girl directly.  
"Rin... sumimasen, but could you return the kite to me?" Kagome tried to smile at her.

Rin turned around and looked to her youkai lord for answers. She wanted to keep the kite; it was so pretty and it was a butterfly! Rin adored butterflies as much as the wild flowers, and thought that if she could, she would want to transform into one, like the way her youkai lord turned into a dog.

For what seemed like a long while, Sesshoumaru finally cracked open his eyes and looked at the miko in front of him. Her hands were hung straight beside her and he could see the kitsune hiding behind her long, fair legs. His gaze traveled up her body and he could see the outline of her curves clearly under the bright sunlight through that thin white top of hers. And when his eyes stopped at her face, he saw that spark of defiance in her eyes again, as if she was daring him to kill her.

_Foolish woman_, he told himself although he felt a little happy that she was not that afraid of him yet. Somehow, somewhat, he wanted her to fear him, but not in the way that the other youkai did. He had to admit to himself that he love that spiteful emotion in her irises as they sparkled a little under the summer sun, because life would be boring if everyone was afraid of him. But in what way did he want her fear for him to be like? He could not answer the question, and did not give it much thought since the world worked in ways that one could never totally comprehend.

"Rin."

One word, was enough to send Rin go pouting. She understood her lord, and knew that it was futile to argue.  
She walked over to Kagome slowly, the pout never leaving her face and handed the string into her hands quietly.

Kagome took over her kite and smiled, "Arigatou Rin."

The little one nodded her head and turned to follow her lord who had already walked away from the small clearing.  
Kagome passed the kite to a jubilant Shippou and he asked curiously, "Kagome, why are you smiling?"

She shook her head, knowing that the kitsune would never be able to understand. The look he gave her, the word he had spoken, the way they had interacted through their eyes, gave Kagome that incredulous joy. Because it was only until then, she knew that Sesshoumaru was not cruel or heartless at all. He had the depth of emotions everyone was capable of, just that he was an expert in hiding them behind that expressionless mask of his. And she wondered to herself who was the real Sesshoumaru while she walked back to their camp and glanced lovingly at her kite.

He turned his face a little and saw the two red tails in the sky. He wondered what this woman was capable of, other than lodging herself in other people's memories, arousing his curiosity and her miko abilities. Perhaps they would meet again, he turned his face to the stony road before him and continued his way.

_All roads will meet each other, eventually._

* * *

Kagome gasped in utter shock when she saw Sesshoumaru standing near the Bone Eater's Well. She gripped onto the splintered wooden ledge, swung herself out from the dry well and held onto the large plastic bag. She had been thinking how she was going to find him and the fact that he was right in front of her eyes unnerved her greatly.  
Things could not get any more convenient, or creepier. Or was there telepathy between them? She shook that impossible thought out of her head and realized that Rin was hiding behind him, in the most adorable way since the little one was crouching near but yet did not dare to touch the taiyoukai's hakamas.

Should she ask him why he was here? Or should she just pass the kite to Rin? She never thought that they would meet again like them, and where was Inuyasha?

"Miko," he did not know what else to say and added on, "Rin."

The little one scrambled out and kept her hands behind her back as she looked shyly at the older female.

Kagome decided to take the initiative and beckoned Rin to her, "Rin!"

The little one looked up to her youkai lord, to which he returned the look but said nothing. Rin nodded her head and her eyes rounded as never before when Kagome pulled out the large butterfly kite from her plastic bag; it was the exact same one she had played with before. Kagome saw the light in her eyes and smiled, "This is for you."

Rin blushed, and bowed shyly as she thanked her gratefully, "Arigatou Kagome-sama!"

The corners of his eyes rounded slightly; she had made Rin a kite. He would never understand the things that went through ningen's minds, nor how females worked. He had decided to bring Rin to look for her since he could not stand that depressed, forlorn look on her face. But he had not expected that _she_ would make her one. No, he had definitely not expected that at all.

So both youkai and miko looked at each other for a long while, until Rin sneezed.

He caught the faint tinge of red in her cheeks when his lips parted. Perhaps she thought that he was going to say something. She thought that her heart was beating as hard as a drum when he opened his mouth. Perhaps he could not bring himself to thank her.

It was not the first time they had met alone, but it was definitely the first time they felt something else towards each other, which was not fear, fright, hatred and disgust at all. To what it exactly was, none could understand and both parted their ways silently.

* * *

Kagome scrunched her nose a little at the pungent sulphur scent which seemed to overwhelm all of her five senses. She patted the wet cloth on her head and leaned back against a smooth boulder. She knew that she should not be soaking in the onsen for more than ten minutes but it had been a hard day. She had quarreled with Inuyasha over Kikyou, even though she could not remember how or who had started it. All she knew was that Kikyou occupied a more important place in his heart; Kikyou was classified under 'urgent', whereas she herself was under 'keep in view'.

_"Baka,"_ she cursed at Inuyasha and closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the hanyou anymore. She tried to remind herself that she had a duty in Sengoku Jidai and that was to retrieve all the Shikon no Kakkera. Boys, or men, did not matter at all.

Kagome let out a happy sigh as the warm mineral waters swirled around her body; the tensions and knots in her muscles seemed to disappear, so was the headache that she had been nursing for the day.

Rin struggled; she did not want a bath!

"Sesshoumaru-sama..." she pleaded but he continued to walk to the nearest onsen, while his claws were firmly hooked under the collar of her yukata. He did not understand why Rin disliked bathing, but that was not important and he increased his footsteps. She was starting to smell and he scrunched his nose a little when the stinging sulphur scent wafted into his nostrils.

Rin struggled again; she hated to bathe and knew that if there was one thing that she did not like about her youkai lord, it was this. He stopped in his tracks; Rin ceased her struggling.

"Kagome-sama!" The little one saw the older female slipping into the deep onsen with her eyes shut. She could not swim and looked up to her youkai lord, who was at the moment frowning and his mouth down-turned.

_Foolish woman!_ Sesshoumaru unhooked his claws from Rin's yukata, to which she landed on her butt painfully while he waded into the onsen when Kagome's head dipped beneath the waters.

Rin watched attentively as her youkai lord emerged from the onsen with Kagome slung over his shoulders, both dripping wet. He laid her down on the bare ground and noticed that her body temperature was too hot; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were half-shut as her eyelashes fluttered and her parted lips were too red.

They looked very soft too, and he had this sudden urge to suck on her lips. And so he did, while Rin covered her eyes and turned around, although she was grinning like mad. Her Sesshoumaru-sama likes Kagome-sama! She would have to tell Jaken-sama later.

Sesshoumaru did not break the kiss even though he knew that she was beginning to regain her consciousness. He loved the way her eyelashes fluttered, like the tails of her butterfly kite did. He brought her up with his only arm around her shoulders and continued to suck on her bottom lip, inwardly wondering what would her reaction be.

Kagome opened her eyes and thought her heart had stopped when she saw Sesshoumaru hugging her, and kissing her! She felt extremely hot and feverish and the fact that his lips were pulling at hers made the matter worse. Her head was beginning to spin and she closed her eyes while she put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself._ It must be a dream_, she repeated to herself but thought that the enjoyable tingle that ran through her body was too real.

When a night breeze blew past their wet bodies, Kagome concurred to herself that it was way _too _real.

She opened her eyes when he pulled away for some oxygen. As she panted, she could see the sharp profile of his face and the way his golden irises sparkled back at her. There was a wildness, a rawness in those irises and she shuddered. She could feel his fingers caressing her back and realized that she was also naked.

"Ah!" Kagome jumped up in shock and he instantly released his arm. Sesshoumaru saw her ears going red, and that she had tried to cover her breasts with her arms while she crossed her legs in fierce embarrassment. Or was that shyness, modesty? He grinned to himself and she gasped when she caught his smile.

Was he using her to satisfy his carnal desires? Was he amused at her? And to her horror, she could see Rin hiding behind a nearby bush!

A wave of anger washed over her head and she felt dizzier than ever. Kagome raised her hand with all intent to slap him.

He saw that and swiftly circled her wrist with his long fingers.

She fumed, because she could not even slap him! What did he take her for! Prostitute! And his fingers were not even tight around her wrist!

He smiled, because he saw that sparkle of defiance in her eyes again, coupled with something else that he was not too sure what it was.

She swallowed as Sesshoumaru continued to look at her; and she reasoned that it must be the steam from the onsen when she thought he looked utterly breathtaking and angelic-like.

His smile disappeared when she swallowed visibly; unknown emotions were stirring in his heart and his loins, and he did not like that all. He would not be like his father or Inuyasha, he affirmed to himself.

Sesshoumaru released his firm grip and stood up.

Kagome looked away and did not know what to say as she shivered a little.

"Rin," he called out and the little one bopped out from the bush instantly, her eyes wide and fearful at the sudden change in his tone, because it meant that he was angry, very angry.

Kagome could not bear the shame anymore and threw a stone at him, "And Rin is here!"

Sesshoumaru's eyebrows arched up in surprise.

The insolent miko had thrown a stone at his chest. And what did she mean when she said Rin was there?

Then he smiled; while Kagome thought that the veins in her forehead would burst.

"Next time, she would not be around then," he smirked and walked off, with the curious Rin in tow.

She bit hard on her lower lip and yelled, "There will NOT be a next time you jerk!"

* * *

Kagome thought that he was right and she was wrong.

She tossed around in her sleeping bag, her mind full on his kisses and the way his fingers moved over her back. She never knew that one could get addicted to such thoughts, if there was ever such an addiction. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself to go to sleep but after a minute, she gave up and laid on her back, staring up at the stars that shone like his eyes.

When the unmistakable red tails floated into her vision of sight, her lips parted in shock. It could not be Shippou's since he was asleep on Kirara.

_Masaka..._

She swiftly left her sleeping bag and took a look at Inuyasha; he was sound asleep and drooling onto his fire-rat haori. She let out a heavy breath and made her way towards the kite, half-excited and half-curious at the appearance of her butterfly kite. Was he calling out for her? Or had she imagined too much?

Her breath was caught in her throat when she saw him standing motionlessly under a big willow tree. The soft branches were swaying in the cooling night breeze and the kite was securely tied to one of them. His back was facing her but she knew that he knew she had arrived. His long silver hair was like a chiffon curtain as it billowed with the breeze, accompanied by the rustling of the leaves while the weak moonlight seemed to enclose its fingers around the strands of his gleaming hair, accentuating his coldness and solitude as a taiyoukai.

Kagome stood there for a long while with his back facing her. It was as if he did not want to acknowledge her presence and she was perplexed. Why did he tie the kite to the willow tree then, if he did not want to see her? And why had he said nothing since she was already there? Or was her existence so insignificant to him that he could not even bring himself to look at her?

She frowned and bit her lip. She felt used, mocked, and oddly upset.

Then he spoke, and she thought that the willow leaves had stopped their rustling for a moment. His smooth yet cold voice sailed through the distance between them and when it reached her ears, it was like the remnants of a soft echo, so soft and wisp that it made her heart ache.

"Why did you come?"

Sesshoumaru had wanted to prove to himself that he was wrong. That he did not miss her, nor had she wanted to see him. He had deliberated over this matter for a week, and that was too long for him. He had not thought so much over one matter, or a person since he was a fast thinker and made decisions within three seconds. He was an expert strategist, a tactician and a taiyoukai for goodness' sake! Therefore her arrival only brought him more headache and he had not had one for a long time too. He wanted to turn his back and take a glance at her sweet face. But he was afraid too, for unknown reasons that eluded his mind. Perhaps he wanted to see that softness in her eyes that he knew was reserved for Inuyasha. Or perhaps he was just curious about her.

Yes, he had always been a curious child, and this characteristic remained with him even when he was older than some of willow trees here.

And so he asked.

Kagome did not know how to answer and thought that his voice was too soft to be him. But she knew that her eyes were not playing tricks on her since she knew of no one else other than Inuyasha with this head of long silver straight head. He was not with his furry pelt and he looked oddly smaller than before, although these straying thoughts did not relieve the headache that was now running somewhere in between her eyes.

And so she responded with a question, "Why did you tie the kite to the tree?"

He frowned hard; she was not supposed to ask him questions!

"It is nothing of your business," he replied coldly, even though he felt a little ashamed in saying that.

Kagome felt that he was trying hard to preserve his pride and grinned to herself, "Well then it's also none of your business why I'm here isn't it? I'm here to.. to.." Her eyes darted around in panic, "to gaze at the stars."

_Star-watching?_ He smirked to himself and rested his hands behind his back as he looked up, "Aa, the stars are especially bright tonight."

She blushed a little at her poorly made excuse but decided to play along, "They are brighter because it is darker here."

For the rest of the night, they watched the stars together in companionable silence until the sparkling balls of fire were overshadowed by faint sheaths of cool blue sunlight. Although the physical distance between them remained, both knew that it was not the case for the gap in their age and their mentality. Little did they know they would fall right into the trap that Fate had so carefully woven for them through a butterfly kite.

* * *

Kagome had come to him many times, but this was the first that they were so physically close. If he squirmed a little, he was sure that he would be able to touch her shoulders. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair but yet did not lean towards her.

She took a seat beside him on the moss-covered log and hummed to herself. He took a side glance at her and wondered why females like to do that.

"You really like my kite huh?" Kagome smiled to herself and watched for his response through the corner of her eye.

He almost choked on her question but managed to maintain his cool composure, "Silly woman."

Kagome giggled; Sesshoumaru smiled to himself. He wondered why he had not had the urge to take her again. Was it out of respect? Or something else? He refused to think beyond that since he judged himself emotionally impossible to like someone, not to even mention love.

"Why is it in the shape of a butterfly?" he asked.

She rested her chin on her knuckles, "Eeto... I think I just like butterflies. And the way they fly, with their wings flapping constantly like that," she gestured with her own hands.

He wanted to snort at her childish behaviour but thought otherwise, "Silly woman."

She rested her cheek on her left hand and looked dreamily at him. Since when did she like him so much? She asked herself but could reach no conclusions as usual. She made a mental count and noted that this was the twentieth time that they had met secretly, or was it not?

"Sesshoumaru," she called out.

He refused to turn his head, for fear that he would not be able to find that special sparkle of love in her eyes.

"Nanda"

She smacked her lips and asked in a serious tone, "When will you tell me why you want to meet me?"

He frowned a little and got to his feet instantly, "Do not ask this Sesshoumaru questions that you are not capable of shouldering the answers!"

Kagome stared in shock as the taiyoukai walked off; she had never seen him this angry with her for a long time.

Sesshoumaru headed back to his entourage and thought that he had been too harsh on her. And upon that thought, he chided himself on becoming soft. _It's the females, it's the females_, he chanted to himself in his mind.

* * *

"Sesshoumaru!" Kagome jogged to him as fast as she could, hoping that her kimono would not tear.

His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at her lithe form and the curves that showed through the pure white kimono. Was today a special day? He asked himself as he held her butterfly kite in his clawed hand.

"Do I look like a butterfly?" She flapped the sleeves of her kimono up and down and flashed a brilliant smile at him.

His lips parted at her question; what was she trying to prove to him? What did she expect him to answer anyway? That she was more beautiful than all the butterflies he had seen with his youkai eyes? That he never thought her more beautiful than ever?

"Ne ne ne! Do I look like a butterfly?" Kagome giggled to herself and tried to spin around on the wooden clogs. But she was a clumsy person as always, and the spin was not even completed when the clogs gave way.

He reached out his right arm and caught her before she fell. Kagome took in a sharp breath as she bent doubled over his arm, "That was close!"

But before she could thank him, she was greeted with another shock as he pulled her in, with her back against his armourless chest. Sesshoumaru tightened his grip over her small waist and thought that her scent was overwhelming his senses in a very different way that he had never thought it possible before. He bent his head and pulled out the long wooden ornament that held her hair up in a bun with his teeth.

As her long ebony hair tumbled down in big soft waves, he dipped his sharp nose into it and inhaled deeply. He had wanted to do this for a long time, but had never quite dared to.

"You smell nice..." he mumbled into her hair and shut his maroon-lined lids. His husky voice sent shivers down her spine; she could feel his warmth on her back and how close his mouth was to her ear.

"I..." She could not continue when he licked her earlobe and turned her around, placing soft dry kisses on her eyes and cheeks.

"Give yourself to me," Sesshoumaru whispered and cut away the obi that secured her kimono.

* * *

"Do you love me?" Kagome looked up at the taiyoukai who was currently resting with his eyes shut.

He froze at her question; did she want commitment and promises from him? Sesshoumaru cracked open one eye and stared at her. Her hair was mussed and slightly damp, the scent of their love-making hung lightly in the air and he wanted to say 'yes.

"No," he closed his eyes; he would never love a ningen. He promised himself that.

Kagome tried to smile, ihe's just pulling my leg/i "Hontou desu ka?"

He frowned at her question; was she doubting him? Or did she think that she had him wrapped around her fingers?

Sesshoumaru sniffed and replied, disgust obvious in his tone, "Do not presume that this Sesshoumaru will like a ningen."

She thought her heart broke into a million pieces as tears rose to her eyes.

_I'm too naive, too naive_, she dried her eyes using the back of her hand, got to her feet and dressed herself. "That is good, because I still love Inuyasha."

Kagome felt him tensed and his youki enlarging and swelling as never before in the small cave. It seemed to stifle her and she pressed her hand against her chest, trying hard to breathe. She was afraid of him; but not now. She knew that he was as vulnerable as her and she was stronger than him in the emotional aspect. But before she could exhale, she felt her body going cold, very cold.

Kagome looked down and saw the edge of Toukijin through her stomach. Her blood was gushing out fast, and it stained her brand new white butterfly kimono and dripped down onto the floor. The red was brighter and deeper than the paint she has used on her butterfly kite. But she felt nothing other than the numbing coldness and searing pain in her heart. And she saw shining white butterflies, hovering before her eyes, and the images of three couples that oddly resembled her and him.

She closed her eyes and smiled as she fell flat on her face. Perhaps she would have to try harder in her next life.  
Sesshoumaru pulled out Toukijin and took a step back. Had he killed her in a fit of anger? Had he soaked his claws in her blood?

He saw her face turned to him as she lay on the ground, almost lifeless while her soul seeped away with the bright red blood. Then he caught the sparkle in her eyes, that which he had desired for so long. He felt as if he had personally shredded his heart into a thousand ragged pieces and backed against the wall of the cave in shock.

Tenseiga shook violently and the noise jolted him out of his thoughts, as if it was hurrying him before it was too late.  
Sesshoumaru quickly unsheathed the life-giving sword and there they were; the hell goblins that were pulling at the soul-chain bound around her body. He blinked his eyes because his vision was blurring fast and with two clean, neat swipes, Tenseiga sliced the hell goblins into two which vanished in a puff of smoke.

But instead of the bright light that he had expected to see when he saved Rin, he saw a flurry of white butterflies, big and small as they rushed past his face and out of the cave. He could hear the soft sounds that their wings made and blinked again as one landed on his shoulder and the other on her pale forehead.

Memories of their past three lives, the passion and the angst of their past loves, the pain and the regret that they had not been able to be make up to each other, poured into his mind endlessly; like a sea trying to squeeze itself into a small wooden pail. Sesshoumaru felt as if his skull would burst from the onslaught of memories and he could not breathe, because he was crying so hard that it was soundless.

Had he really killed her? Had he really lost her again?

He never thought himself capable of crying, but as hot tears coursed down his striped cheeks, he wished that Kami would give him another chance and return Kagome to him. He did not want to go through another life again in search for her; he had waited so long for her.

"Sess...shoumaru..." She cried out weakly; finally understanding why the Bone Eater's Well transported her to five hundred years in the past.

He dropped Tenseiga and hugged her tightly; he was finally reunited with her, after so many centuries of aimless waiting.

"Kagome!"

That was the first time she heard him saying her name, and she smiled.

* * *

The pair of butterflies circled each other and disappeared. There would be no need for them anymore.

* * *

There! I have finally finished this last chapter. I know its a bit long, but I wanted to develop their relationship slowly... a happy ending for everyone. )

Pseudomonas


End file.
